


What You Don't Know

by zerodawn22



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Unplanned Pregnancy, fleurmione - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:54:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 108,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26207521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zerodawn22/pseuds/zerodawn22
Summary: Everyone has a weird gap in their knowledge. Unfortunately for her, Hermione's coincides with a mistake that could have huge consequences. She's known as the Brightest Witch of Her Age, but there are some things she has just never come across. Try explaining that to an enraged Veela... Fleurmione. Femslash. Post-War.
Relationships: Fleur Delacour/Hermione Granger
Comments: 51
Kudos: 594





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there- If you like Harry Potter femslash (especially Fleurmione), then come join this discord where a bunch of writers and readers share ideas and fic recs: discord. gg/6anK88uNst (delete the spaces, I just put them in to trick ao3 lol)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Side note: I'm part of a Discord server where we chat Harry Potter femslash! It's talking about fave pairings, sharing great fic recommendations and helping some of the authors brainstorm/feeding them plot suggestions. You don't have to be a writer to join, just enjoy Harry Potter f/f pairings and be 18+ The link is discord . gg /2cNeuT
> 
> -Z

Hermione cursed as Ron spilt a beer down the front of her black tee.

She wasn’t sure why on Earth she had agreed to party with Harry and Ron.

The two had been on at her in the years since their graduation from Hogwarts to let her hair down and live like a typical teenager and student.

The three of them flatted together at Grimmauld Place, catching the Floo to their classes each day in the city.

Ron and Harry were training as Aurors, heading into their final year. Hermione had taken a different route, deciding to study policy. Her goal was to get into the Ministry and start promoting some real change that was overdue. She was also in her final year, exceeding her Professor’s expectations as per usual.

It was because they were in their final year that Hermione had finally conceded and allowed the boys to throw the massive house party they had been dreaming of ever since they left Hogwarts.

She was regretting her decision a little now.

The house was positively swarming with people. Every floor was crammed with young witches and wizards. Word had clearly spread like wildfire about the Golden Trio finally hosting a party.

“Sorry, ‘Mione,” Ron apologised, grabbing a nearby dishtowel and attempting to dab up the beer on Hermione’s tee. As he got a little too close to her chest, she shoved him away gently.

“Don’t worry about it,” Hermione groaned, rolling her eyes.

The crowd shifted and Hermione caught sight of a blonde and a redhead. She left Ron fumbling to open a new beer and took off into the crowd.

“Ginny! Luna!” Hermione called out.

The two women turned around and greeted their friend.

“Hermione!” Ginny grinned widely, “It’s crazy in here! Thought we were never going to find you or the boys!”

“Too crazy,” Hermione groaned. She pulled at her damp, beer-smelling tee.

“Hermione, loosen up,” Luna smiled dreamily, “We won’t be young forever.”

“What does ‘loosening up’ even look like, anyway?” Hermione frowned. Ginny giggled and elbowed Luna.

“A little like this,” Ginny said, pulling a bottle of firewhiskey out of her handbag.

“And this,” Luna grinned, producing some shot glasses.

“Guys,” Hermione chided.

“Come on,” Ginny whined, “Just this once let loose? I’ve been dying to have a truly wild night of drinking with you! Besides, how often do you ever have a party at your place?”

“Oh, fine then,” Hermione folded, rolling her eyes as the girls cheered. She took a shot glass from Luna and allowed Ginny to fill it up.

* * *

Hermione groaned, her stomach churning.

She brought up the heels of her hands to her forehead, groaning.

Goddamn Ginny and Luna with their shots.

Goddamn Harry and Ron with their party.

She had a splitting headache and a heavy stomach. She’d never had a proper hangover before now and she already loathed it. She would not be able to study at all today.

Definitely no more parties at Grimmauld Place from here on in.

She sat up, suddenly aware that she was naked in her bed. Her muscles ached.

“Oh no…” Hermione’s eyes widened as she realised the weird dream she’d had might not have been a dream after all.

Her eyes slid to the other side of the bed where a blonde woman was lying facedown. Her back was bare, a sheet covering her up to her waist.

“No, no, no, no,” Hermione was panicking now. This was beyond ridiculous. She didn’t do one night stands. She didn’t do women.

The blonde grumbled quietly, waking and rolling onto her side. Hermione averted her eyes from the bare chest now on display. She pulled the sheets up to hide her own nakedness.

“Why are you being so loud?” Fleur Delacour complained haughtily.

“I thought… I didn’t realise…” Hermione rambled awkwardly, “I’m sorry,”

“You’re sorry?” Fleur drawled, sitting up and running a hand through her hair. She seemed to have zero self-consciousness over her nudity. But then Hermione supposed that if you looked like Fleur Delacour, maybe you would be that confident.

“I-I’m not into women,” Hermione stammered, a blush rising in her cheeks, “Last night was crazy.”

Fleur sneered and flipped her hair.

Hermione had never liked the blonde. Fleur had always been cold and arrogant. In fact, Ginny and Hermione had strengthened their friendship through their mutual dislike of Fleur. It had turned out that Fleur had married Bill during the war to anchor her residential status so she could fight in the Wizarding War. Bill had turned out to be gay, Fleur merely his best friend.

But now Hermione supposed Fleur might also be gay?

“I’m not interested in you,” Fleur said derisively, “Last night was a drunk mistake, that’s all. You’re welcome, but you get no repeats.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, Fleur’s hideous ego crashing her back to reality.

“Whatever,” Hermione shot back, “Just… Don’t tell anyone about this, okay?”

“As if I would want to!” Fleur retorted haughtily.

She got out of bed, stretching flexibly before setting about finding her clothes scattered throughout the room.

Hermione pulled the sheets up even further, right up to her chin. Her face was burning with a blush at the memories washing back to her from the previous night. Fleur and her had stumbled into her room, both quite drunk and jovial, before totally laying into each other. Clothes had flown wildly across the room as they had passionately kissed and stumbled their way to the bed.

Hermione peeked over the sheets meekly as Fleur pulled her bra off a lampshade, a look of distaste on her face.

It was bad enough that Hermione had experimented in her drunkenness. That was mortifying. But with Fleur Delacour? Everything about Fleur’s manner and reaction was embarrassing her further. The blonde seemed even more mortified than Hermione about their situation.

Pulling her clothes on quickly, Fleur sat on the edge of the bed to put her strappy heels back on. She was almost ready to go.

Hermione racked her brain on what the appropriate protocol was here. Her vast knowledge bank was no use when it came to the social etiquette of one night stands.

“Er… See you around, I guess,” Hermione croaked, her face now almost half-obscured by the sheet.

Fleur didn’t even bother to look back at her, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

“Au revoir,” Fleur said with trademark disinterest, getting up and gliding from the room.

The second she left, Hermione leapt up from bed, too jumpy to stay in bed much longer. She noted with embarrassment several lovebites on her stomach and thighs. What on Earth had possessed her to fall into bed with Fleur Delacour of all people?!

She pulled on some plain briefs and a sports bra before throwing on some jeans and a longsleeved tee.

Fleur was incredibly attractive. Hermione couldn’t deny that. Everything about her oozed a sensuality and sexuality that Hermione herself knew she would never possess.

Hermione shook her head. No point even thinking about it. What was done was done.

She ran a hand through her tangled curls, trying half-heartedly to tame her bed hair.

She heard the front door slam and knew the coast was clear to leave her room. She opened the door and padded downstairs, stopping when she heard sniggering.

The living room was at the base of the stairs she had taken. One couch was occupied by a tousle-haired redhead. The other was occupied by a dreamy blonde. Ginny and Luna.

“Oh, God,” Hermione groaned.

“You and Phlegm, huh?” Ginny teased.

Luna giggled.

“What do you know?” Hermione said with slow horror.

“Well, I know that we caught you and her snogging in the hallway last night,” Luna grinned, “And now I know that she stayed the night. Didn’t think you swung that way, Hermione!”

“Shut up!” Hermione hissed, blushing.

“Hope you used protection,” Ginny giggled, leaning back on the couch.

“Ha, ha,” Hermione shot back sarcastically.

The stairs creaked as a very hungover looking Harry and Ron made their way down the stairs.

“What a night,” Ron grinned, stretching his arms above him.

Harry disappeared into the kitchen as Ron sat down on the end of the couch Ginny was on, inadvertently squashing her feet.

“Ouch, watch it, Ron!” Ginny yelped.

“Serves you right,” Hermione muttered under her breath.

Harry came back in with a tray of coffees, giving them out. Hermione gratefully accepted one, inhaling the deliciously bitter scent of black coffee. Harry sat down at the end of the couch Luna was on.

“So, anything interesting happen last night?” Harry asked.

Hermione’s eyes widened and she tried to communicate wordlessly to Ginny. But it was too late.

“Hermione and Fleur slept together!” Ginny blurted with mirth.

Ron began to choke mid-sip and Harry almost dropped his coffee, yelping as hot coffee splashed over his lap.

“Hermione?!” Harry asked, overwhelmed as he whipped out his wand to remedy the hot coffee burning his lap, “I didn’t even know you were into women!”

“None of us did,” Luna chimed in.

Hermione was mortified.

“I mean have you seen Fleur though?” Ron commented, regaining composure, “I mean if anyone was going to turn Hermione, it was gonna be Fleur.”

“Okay, okay, can we stop bloody speculating about this?” Hermione said waspishly. Ron and Harry chuckled a little at that. For years it had been their silly mistakes with women that had been speculated about by their group of friends. It was amusing finally seeing Hermione in the same situation.

“Right, right, Hermione,” Ron relented, holding his hands up, “Hope you used protection though.”

“Yeah, good one,” Hermione rolled her eyes. Ron and Ginny clearly shared the same sense of humour.

“’Mione—“ Ron started.

“Hey, I thought you just agreed to drop it,” Hermione interjected. Ron nodded, knowing better than to play with Hermione’s temper.

* * *

It had been further torture to Hermione’s hangover when Ginny and Ron had reminded them all that it was Sunday Night Dinner.

After their graduation from Hogwarts, Molly Weasley had introduced the regular dinner meeting as a way to keep them all connected. The Weasleys, Harry and Hermione were always invited. Frequently, Molly or other Weasleys invited along other friends of the family. Tonight they had Hagrid and Luna joining them.

Molly had politely cast a spell to enlarge one of the dining room chairs for Hagrid, but even still it was straining under the weight of the half-giant.

He had kindly brought along a basket of his signature rock-cakes. Harry was politely gnawing on one, trying not to break any teeth.

“So how have you all been?” Molly asked, doling out the dinner onto the table with a flick of a wand.

Ron, predictably, rushed in and grabbed a handful of chicken drumsticks before anyone else could.

“Heard you had a wee party last night,” Hagrid rumbled in his loud voice.

“I hope you behaved, Ronald,” Molly interjected.

“It’s not Ron you need to worry about behaving,” Ginny giggled, before being elbowed in the ribs by Hermione.

“Which o’ you lot haven’t been behaving then, eh?” Hagrid chuckled good-naturedly, scooping an alarming amount of potatoes onto his plate.

“Not a word,” Hermione hissed to Ginny.

Luna, however, was seated across the table and down from Hermione, between Arthur Weasley and Molly. Well out of earshot of Hermione’s hissed demand.

“Oh, Hermione had a one-night stand with Fleur Delacour,” Luna said dreamily.

Ron choked a little on his mouthful of chicken as Molly and Arthur exchanged surprised glances.

Hermione swore under her breath. Somehow the situation was even more mortifying. Arthur, Molly and Hagrid were semi-parental figures to Hermione. They were the absolute last people she wanted knowing about a strange one night stand she had indulged in.

“Crikey, Hermione,” Hagrid said, breaking the awkward silence, “I hope ye used protection.”

Hermione couldn’t hold back her reaction this time.

“Gross, Hagrid,” Hermione said, scrunching up her face, “I’ve already heard that terrible joke from both Ginny and Ron. I hardly expected it from you.”

Hagrid looked abashed, halting his eating and raising two dustpan sized hands.

“No, no, I didn’ mean it like tha’ Hermione,” Hagrid apologised, “I jus’ meant, you know, with Veela you’ve just gotta be careful with contraception.”

He was blushing a little now, and his earnestness startled Hermione.

“Well… Erm… I’m touched you’re worried, Hagrid,” Hermione said with excruciating awkwardness, “But, erm, I don’t have those parts. You don’t need to worry about contraception with two women.”

The Weasleys and Luna lowered their utensils and stared at Hermione.

Hermione looked around, unsettled. She glanced at Harry, who looked just as confused.

“You… You really don’t know?” Ron said finally.

“Know what?” Hermione was getting irritated now.

Molly stood up at the table, clattering her plate away from her.

“I don’t think this is appropriate dinner conversation,” Molly intervened, “Hermione, dear, would you come with me to the kitchen for a moment?”

Hermione, baffled, put down her own utensils. The redheads, Hagrid and Luna were all still staring at her in total shock. It was entirely unnerving her.

Hermione walked across the threadbare carpet, following Molly through a low doorway and into the rickety wooden kitchen. Pots and pans were all over the kitchen higgledy piggledy. A dusting of rogue flour adorned a cabinet door near the sink.

Molly halted, sighing heavily before turning around to face Hermione.

“Is everything okay?” Hermione asked, “I’m so sorry for such inappropriate discussion at your dinner table.”

“It’s always awkward having these conversations, isn’t it?” Molly said politely, smiling encouragingly at Hermione, “I suppose your parents would have had this discussion with you… But they would hardly have known about magical creatures, would they?”

“Erm, sorry?” Hermione asked, “What conversation are we talking about?”

“The birds and the bees, honey,” Molly said sweetly.

Hermione felt a heavy blush rise in her cheeks. Apparently the day could get more embarrassing.

“I… I don’t…”

“Veela are highly fertile,” Molly interrupted, raising her eyebrows meaningfully, “It’s a feature of their magical blood.”

“Yes, well…” Hermione stuttered.

“They can fall pregnant to male or female lovers,” Molly said pointedly, “Everyone that sleeps with a Veela needs to use a contraceptive spell first.”

“That… That’s biologically impossible,” Hermione said, her eyes widening.

“They’re magical creatures, dear,” Molly said kindly, “So Ginny, Ron and Hagrid weren’t teasing you. Most young witches and wizards learn that from their parents when they have the usual ‘birds and bees’ talk. I guess they assumed you would have heard it at some point at Hogwarts. Or read it… Merlin knows you are an eager learner.”

“I… I didn’t know that,” Hermione replied hollowly. She tried to call on her hazy memories of the previous night. She didn’t remember Fleur telling her anything about a contraceptive spell.

“Well, I suggest you talk to Fleur, dear,” Molly said softly, putting a comforting hand on Hermione’s shoulder, “If you didn’t do the spell you should make sure she did. Veela are highly fertile.”

Hermione swallowed. She had suddenly lost her appetite.

When she returned to the table, the Weasley parents, Ron, Ginny, Luna, Harry and Hagrid all appeared to have politely decided not to raise the subject again. Hermione supposed they must have filled Harry in while she was out of the room, as he was now staring at her and looked as pale as she felt.

* * *

“I mean I know everyone has a weird gap in their knowledge, but goddamn!” Ron commented.

Him, Harry and Hermione were walking down Diagon Alley towards Gringotts. Ron had checked in with Bill to see if Fleur was working onsite at the bank that day.

Hermione had been trying to track down the blonde for the better part of three weeks. But the curse-breakers had been on an off-shore assignment that had started almost immediately after the Grimmauld Place party.

Now, however, they were back in London. It was Hermione’s chance to talk to Fleur and double check that the blonde had used a contraceptive spell on the fateful night of their one-night stand.

Harry was chuckling now and Hermione shot him a glare. She was a bundle of nerves.

“What?” Hermione snapped.

“Sorry,” Harry chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, “It’s just… If you were ever to ask me if we were to have to go and make a visit for one of these conversations… I would have guessed it would be Ron that had forgotten to use protection. Never in a million years would I have expected you.”

“Well, to be fair, you didn’t know the Veela thing either,” Hermione replied waspishly.

They stepped quickly up the front steps of Gringotts.

The boys lingered near the doorway, aimlessly looking at pamphlets while Hermione approached the front desk to ask for Fleur.

The goblins seemed less than happy to entertain a social visit, but disappeared to summon her all the same.

Hermione drummed her fingers nervously on the marble desk, looking around the cavernous bank. It was a grand design, elegantly built out of white marble and gold.

Her attention was drawn back as the goblin from the enquiries desk returned with a svelte blonde behind him.

Fleur was looking stunning, dressed in a form fitting grey dress that brought out the bright blue of her eyes. Her white-blonde hair was loose and tumbling down her shoulders. Her full lips moved into a pout when she saw who had called her.

“What about a one-time thing do you not understand?” Fleur sighed, as soon as Hermione and her had moved to one side of the room.

“Merlin, it’s—I’m not after th-that!” Hermione stammered, blushing.

“What is it then?” Fleur asked, arching an eyebrow coldly. She rested a hand on her hip.

“Did… Did we…” Hermione struggled to get the words out. This all felt impossibly embarrassing. “Did you use contraception?”

The aloof façade on Fleur’s face immediately dropped and she looked shocked.

“I thought you did,” Fleur said so quietly that Hermione could barely hear it.

“I-I didn’t know that women had to with Veela,” Hermione said sheepishly.

“HERMIONE!” Fleur shrieked.

Heads snapped around to stare at them all around the bank. Hermione could see Harry and Ron looking up over some pamphlets.

The blonde in front of her looked enraged. Hermione raised her hands in surrender.

“I didn’t know, okay!” Hermione said apologetically, “I’m Muggleborn. Hogwarts never did any kind of sex education so I learned all that from my parents and Muggle healthcare materials.”

“You’re supposed to be the brightest witch of your age!” Fleur hissed, lowering her voice to avoid the onlookers from overhearing.

“I’m sorry, okay!” Hermione repeated.

Fleur narrowed her eyes at Hermione, her mood going sub-zero. She jabbed Hermione in the chest with a finger.

“I’m going to get a pregnancy test after work from the potions store,” Fleur growled, “You are going to meet me after work and pay for it.”

“Fine,” Hermione sighed. She supposed it was the least she could do to remedy the cost of the gap in her knowledge.

“You’d better not have got me pregnant,” Fleur hissed.

Hermione didn’t have a chance to respond. The blonde turned on her heel and stormed back to the depths of Gringotts without another word.

Hermione ran a hand down her face. It was set to be a stressful wait.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione licked her ice cream. She was sitting at a small table outside Florean Fortescue’s with Harry and Ron. It was 4.30pm and they were waiting with Hermione until she had to go meet Fleur at 5.

“I hope this doesn’t mean the end of parties at Grimmauld Place,” Ron sighed.

“Ronald, do you _really_ think after this whole nightmare I would be thrilled to host another party?” Hermione asked frostily.

“Hey, it’s not my fault you don’t know basic sex ed,” Ron shot back.

Hermione glared across her ice cream at him.

“Easy guys,” Harry said diplomatically, “I’m sure it’s all going to be fine.”

“I don’t get what you were so hung up about with parties, anyway,” Ron sulked, “They’re a good time. It’s what students are supposed to do.”

“Students are _supposed_ to pass their courses,” Hermione replied testily, “Which I _won’t_ be doing if our house is full of drunk partygoers.”

“Well, good luck passing your classes with a baby,” Ron mumbled under his breath, rolling his eyes.

Hermione slammed her ice cream down on the table, making a splattered mess. She pushed her chair back and got to her feet.

“Trust you to care more about a stupid party than supporting your friend in a time of need,” Hermione hissed.

“Hermione, he didn’t mean that,” Harry interrupted.

But Hermione was turning on her heel and storming off down Diagon Alley. She stomped all the way up the steps of Gringotts, sitting down on the top of the marble steps outside. She rested her head in her hands, trying not to dwell on the horrible few weeks she had been having.

There was so much going on in her mind. A whirlwind of panicked thoughts around the possibility of getting someone pregnant. The dread that the person that could be pregnant seemed to loathe her. That she wasn’t a fan of her either. That everyone knew she had slept with a woman. That she had slept with a woman.

She hadn’t allowed herself much time to dwell on that last one.

Sometimes, late at night, she would let herself think back to her hazy memories of that night. Running her hands over silky skin and a firm body. Soft kisses running down her body.

“Hermione?”

Hermione looked up. Bill Weasley was standing eye level to her, standing further down the steps. It appeared he had been leaving and almost walked past her until he had spotted her. He was dressed neatly in a navy suit with a forest green tie. He was looking very professional for someone that often spent work hours with his sleeves rolled up breaking curses in filthy tombs.

“Hey, Bill,” Hermione said glumly.

“What’s up?” Bill grinned charmingly, “What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for Fleur,” Hermione intoned grumpily.

Bill cocked his head to one side, looking at Hermione carefully. He suddenly burst out laughing.

“ _You’re_ the one that might have knocked her up?” Bill surmised.

“She told you?” Hermione asked, cringing. This couldn’t get worse.

“Well, we are best friends. She told me she had a drunk one-night stand and that she found out today the person hadn’t used protection,” Bill grinned, “She was too embarrassed to say who she’d slept with.”

  
“Embarrassed?” Hermione echoed hollowly. It felt like a punch to the gut.

Bill looked apologetic.

“I mean, maybe that isn’t the right word…” Bill said awkwardly, “But seriously, Hermione? How did you not know the Veela thing?”

“I just didn’t, okay?” Hermione snapped. Bill laughed.

“Well, you picked one hell of a way to find out,” Bill retorted.

“At least you found out from her and not your parents or Hagrid,” Hermione murmured, rubbing her temples. Bill laughed.

“God, Hermione,” Bill laughed, “You’ve got yourself in quite the predicament, huh?”

“I’ve just had a rough time from your younger brother,” Hermione sighed, “Could you take it a little easy on me?”

“Sorry, Hermione,” Bill said, smiling apologetically, “It’s just funny because you are totally the last person I would expect this situation to happen to. Good luck with Fleur, though. She’s in a right mood today. Veela tempers, huh?”

With that, Bill waved at Hermione and headed back off down the steps.

“God, God, God,” Hermione muttered, burying her face in her hands. Things just seemed to be going from bad to worse. It bothered her that Fleur was so embarrassed about their drunken tryst that she couldn’t even tell her best friend. Was Hermione that ugly? That nerdy? That frumpy?

Self-conscious thoughts filled her head as she tried to ignore the heavy lump deep in her stomach. She didn’t know why it upset her quite so much. Maybe because it was just the icing on top of an already terrible situation.

The clicking of high heels and unimpressed clearing of a throat announced Fleur’s arrival.

Hermione stood up, smoothing down her clothes self consciously. She was now ultra self-conscious about the plain tee, black jeans and denim jacket she was wearing.

Fleur was looking like a runway model, as per usual.

Is that why she was so ashamed?

Hermione inwardly cringed as she saw the pure annoyance adorning Fleur’s proud features.

“Come,” Fleur said abruptly, taking off at pace down the steps. Hermione stumbled to keep up.

Fleur really was rude. She didn’t slow her pace at all for Hermione, leading to awkward stumbles until Hermione caught up.

Fleur glided down the end of Diagon Alley before turning onto another street. She had the air of someone that was in a hurry and would rather not be there at all.

Finally, she pushed open the small wooden door of a potions store that reminded Hermione of a Muggle Pharmacy. A small set of bells jingled as they entered. Fleur wrinkled her nose with distaste.

“You ask for it,” Fleur demanded.

“What?”

“Well, _I’m_ not asking for it,” Fleur replied haughtily, “This is your mistake. You deal with it.”

Hermione was beginning to feel like she was getting a bit of a rough deal when it came to the situation. Yes, she really ought to have known more about Veela before jumping into bed with one. On the other hand, Fleur was raised Veela. Surely she should know how dangerous it would be to rely on someone else doing the contraceptive spell?

Hermione frowned, lining up at the counter.

She could feel Fleur’s eyes boring into the back of her head as the line progressed. Finally, she was facing the kindly old shop woman.

Hermione felt a sting of embarrassment at asking this woman for a pregnancy test.

“Yes, dear?” the woman asked kindly, “What can I help you with?”

Her face was well worn with smile lines and deep wrinkles of age. Her white hair was permed to perfection. She reminded Hermione awfully of her own grandmother.

“I… Erm…” Hermione didn’t quite know how to say this to a grandmotherly figure, “I need… Uh…”

She trailed off awkwardly. The old shop woman smiled.

“Well, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what you need, dearie,” she smiled. Hermione blushed.

“I need a, erm…” Hermione averted her eyes, her blush burning her cheeks even more.

“Mon dieu! She needs a pregnancy test,” Fleur interrupted impatiently, appearing at Hermione’s side in an instant.

The old woman looked surprised, but politely hid her reaction and turned to rummage behind the counter.

Hermione glared at the blonde who scowled back at her.

“Here you are, sweetie,” the old woman had turned back to them.

Hermione reached in her pocket, fishing out her money pouch. One of her proudest moments was modifying an extendable charm to allow herself to have generous pockets in her jeans. Women’s jeans were less than generous with their pockets. But with the extendable charm, Hermione had the space of a small handbag. She fished out the required amount of coins and placed them in the old woman’s hand, thanking her profusely.

As soon as Hermione and Fleur left the store, Fleur swiped the paper bag from her.

“Merci,” Fleur said coldly. She began to walk away but Hermione grabbed her by the elbow.

“Wait, are you going to let me know the result?” Hermione asked anxiously. Fleur shot her a cold look.

Her cerulean eyes travelled from Hermione’s face down to the hand holding her by the elbow, scowling darkly. She didn’t reply to the brunette.

“Fleur! I deserve to know!” Hermione insisted.

Fleur maintained her aloof expression for a moment, considering Hermione’s words. Finally, she sighed and shook her head.

“Fine,” Fleur conceded.

She pulled her arm roughly out of Hermione’s grip. She flipped her sheet of silky platinum blonde hair over her shoulder and strode off without another look at Hermione, her high heels clicking loudly on the cobbled streets.

Hermione sighed, watching her go.

Fleur was a truly gorgeous woman, but Gods, could she be icier? Hermione felt like she had frostbite after that encounter. She’d known that Fleur was hardly thrilled about their encounter, but her reaction that day had been damning.

Hermione let her eyes roam down Fleur’s body as she walked further down the street. Her dress was form fitting and clung to her in all the right places. Hermione, despite herself, felt a smile playing at her lips at the memory of having her hands all over Fleur’s perfect body the night of the party.

_‘Wait, what?’_ the smile fell off Hermione’s face as she realised what she was doing. She turned her back to Fleur’s retreating figure, exhaling.

It was a one-off. Just because they were both drunk. It didn’t mean anything about her sexuality.

Hermione walked back to Diagon Alley to meet the boys. Harry and Ron were leaning against the wall next to Florean’s.

“How’s your baby-momma?” Ron asked with a smirk, before Harry elbowed him hard.

“I’m not in the mood, Ronald,” Hermione replied darkly.

“What? It’s funny,” Ron shrugged.

“So not funny,” Hermione replied, thoroughly moody about the entire situation.

“Sorry, ‘Mione,” Harry said sympathetically, “What do you feel like doing now? We could grab some dinner?”

“Honestly, I’d rather go home and get some study done,” Hermione sighed, “It’s the only thing that makes sense right now.”

Ron’s grin faded and he slung an arm around Hermione’s shoulders as they headed off down Diagon Alley.

“Look, I’m sorry Hermione,” Ron said genuinely, “I’m sure it will be fine.”

* * *

Hermione left her lecture, yawning.

  
She hadn’t been sleeping well lately. It had been a couple of days since she saw Fleur and took her for the pregnancy test.

Not even her studies could keep her mind off that. She was trying her best to be patient. After all, Fleur was already very angry with her. If she sought out the blonde too soon, her temper may just fully boil over.

Hermione walked through the university campus, her satchel swinging against her. Temper or not, if she hadn’t heard from Fleur by the end of the day, she would seek the blonde out. She couldn’t take not knowing.

Hermione had tried to bury herself heavily in her policy work. She was already well ahead of her reading and assignments, but could always do more.

Unfortunately, it was like that night at Grimmauld Place had planted a seed in her mind. Whenever her mind went blank, she found herself thinking of silky soft blonde hair. Sometimes she could practically _feel_ Fleur grinding on her if she dwelt on the memories long enough.

A blush bloomed in Hermione’s cheeks. She was beginning to think that perhaps she was not as straight as she had initially thought. The way her stomach lurched pleasantly when she remembered pinning Fleur down to the bed, or the way Fleur had whimpered and arched her back.

She didn’t like to think about it. Or rather, she didn’t like to think about how much she _liked_ to think about it.

Hermione rounded a corner and halted in her tracks. Her heart skipped a beat.

Leaning against a brick wall was a very indifferent looking Fleur Delacour. She was dressed casually in torn jean shorts that showed off her long legs and a plain white tee. Hermione stepped closer.

Hermione had only really seen Fleur in high heels before. Even at Hogwarts during the Triwizard Tournament, the Beauxbatons girls had worn heels with their uniforms. Hermione had assumed that Fleur was taller than her. But now, as she was standing in some flat sneakers, Hermione realised she was actually slightly shorter than her. Amazing what an intimidating personality could do for perceived height.

Hermione wondered if there was something wrong. It wasn’t like Fleur to dress so casually.

“Erm, hey,” Hermione greeted awkwardly.

Fleur crossed her arms tightly across her chest, looking away.

“I took the test,” Fleur said, still not looking at Hermione.

“And?”

Hermione’s stomach was in knots.


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione had gone home in a daze, not really paying attention to anyone.

“Hermione? Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Harry asked.

“I don’t get that turn of phrase,” Ron commented, “We’ve all seen ghosts, nothing crazy about that.”

“The phrase originally comes from Muggles, Ronald,” Hermione snapped, before sitting down at the dining table abruptly.

“Jeez, what’s twisted your knickers?” Ron shot back, sitting down too.

“Fleur’s pregnant,” Hermione intoned, still in shock.

Harry dropped the bottle of water he was holding and Ron’s jaw dropped.

“No way,” Harry gasped.

“Blimey…” Ron uttered, “I guess they always go on about how super fertile Veela’s are.”

“Unfortunately, never in the education system,” Hermione muttered darkly, drumming her fingers on the table.

“What are you going to do?” Harry asked, picking up his bottle of water and joining the others at the table.

“I don’t know, Harry,” Hermione said, resting her forehead on her hand, “What am I going to do? I’m just a student. I can’t look after a baby!”

“You might not have to?” Harry asked, shrugging.

Hermione leant down, flinging open her leather satchel and slamming a number of large books down on the table.

“After the contraception faux pas, I researched Veela as thoroughly as I could,” Hermione said, tidying the stack of books, “I ordered in books from across the country to get as much information as I could. I’m not going to be caught out not knowing something again.”

“And what did you find?” Ron asked, curious.

“She’ll keep it,” Hermione replied, “Veela will never terminate a pregnancy, it’s just not a thing culturally for them.”

“Oh,” Harry replied.

“But what if she doesn’t want you to be involved at all?” Ron suggested, “I mean if she’s as cold with you as you say,”

“I can’t just _not_ be in my own child’s life!” Hermione protested.

“Merlin, what a mess,” Ron said, running a hand through his red bowl of hair, “Glad it happened to you and not me.”

“Ronald!” Hermione snapped at her friend.

Ron looked sheepish.

“I mean, it would be absolutely amazing to sleep with Fleur, but woah, what a situation you’re in!” Ron attempted to explain.

“Ron, ever heard of the Muggle phrase ‘if you find yourself in a hole, stop digging’?” Harry asked, nudging his friend.

Ron shrugged, changing the subject to one that was less of a minefield for himself. Hermione was relieved, as Ron distracted her from her predicament by talking rubbish about a former Slytherin in their Auror classes.

Later, as they were about to retire for the night, Harry pulled Hermione back to have a word to her one on one.

As Ron sloped off to use the bathroom, Harry’s green eyes fixed on Hermione’s deep brown eyes that were flecked with amber. His spiky hair was in disarray as usual, but his face was serious.

“Hermione,” Harry said carefully, “I know most girls would never prepare themselves for finding themselves in this situation, so I’m gonna give you some bloke’s advice. You gotta do the right thing by Fleur and your kid.”

“What do you mean?” Hermione asked, putting her hands on her hips.

“Even if she doesn’t want you there,” Harry proceeded, “You’ve still gotta provide support. It’s the right thing to do. Gods, I know I never wanted to find myself in a situation like it, but I always swore that if I _did_ make a mistake, I would make sure I did the right thing.”

“Harry,” Hermione sighed, “You haven’t seen how she acts with me. She _hates_ me. I’m surprised she even came to let me know the result. Bill said she was too embarrassed to even tell him she’d slept with me.”

Harry’s expression softened.

“’Mione, you know her ice princess routine is just a front,” Harry smiled, “Remember her with her kid sister at the Triwizard Tournament? Remember her during the war? Deep down, she’s all right! Besides, I don’t think she would have slept with you in the first place—drunk or not—if she didn’t find you attractive on _some_ level.”

“You… You think?” Hermione asked, her eyebrows raising.

“I’m sure,” Harry replied, “Now get some sleep—you look exhausted.”

Hermione nodded, inwardly knowing she would have another restless night. She had been in full panic mode since receiving the news from Fleur.

* * *

The next morning, Hermione had two lectures early in the morning before having the rest of the day free. She relished the freedom, spending a good hour in the library reading thick tomes on policy before heading into town.

She’d arranged to meet Ginny at Diagon Alley for a bite to eat and a catch up.

Ginny sat in stunned silence as Hermione filled her in on the latest following the one-night stand drama. It felt good getting it all out in the open. Ginny was less likely than Ron to put her foot in her mouth while talking.

When she finally got to the end, Ginny seemed to mull it all over, sipping at her milkshake thoughtfully.

“How are you feeling about it now?” Ginny asked eventually.

“Bloody panicked, Gin,” Hermione admitted, “I don’t know what to do.”

“Not about the pregnancy,” Ginny clarified, putting her milkshake down meaningfully, “About the one-night stand. We didn’t really get a chance to talk about it in after the initial joking.”

“Oh… Well… Regret, obviously,” Hermione answered, rubbing the back of her neck. She wasn’t sure what else to say on the matter.

Ginny raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah… Well, that’s a given considering the results,” Ginny conceded, “But the one-night stand itself? Did you like it? What you can remember of it?”

Hermione blushed, caught off-guard by the question.

“I—Well, I don’t think that really matters,” Hermione said quickly, trying to avoid the question, “It’s pretty clear Fleur didn’t like it. Bill said she was too embarrassed to tell him it was me.”

“Yeah, well, that could just be because Bill is like the rest of us Weasleys and would have teased her about it no matter who it was,” Ginny snorted dismissively, “So… Did you like it?”

“I… It was just a drunk thing,” Hermione replied, looking down at her hands on the table.

“Hermione, it’s just me,” Ginny said quietly, “We tell each other everything.”

“I like men,” Hermione said, squirming in her seat.

Ginny leaned across the table, cupping Hermione’s cheek and turning her face to look at her.

“Hermione,” Ginny said gently, “That doesn’t mean you can’t like women too. Sexuality isn’t all black and white.”

Hermione sighed, exhaling a couple of times and pushing the leftover food around on her plate.

“Well… I have thought about it since then… And, I can’t say I _don’t_ like the memories of it,” Hermione said awkwardly, her shoulders raising almost up to her ears. She felt incredibly uncomfortable.

Ginny nodded, seemingly satisfied with that answer.

“There’s nothing wrong with that, Hermione,” Ginny replied, “So, what are you going to do about this situation? Have you talked to Fleur about the pregnancy?”

“No, not since she told me the result of the test,” Hermione admitted.

“You really need to talk to her,” Ginny said, “I caught up with Bill earlier today. They aren’t out on assignment or anything.”

“Well, maybe I could swing past,” Hermione frowned, “If she even wants to see me.”

“Atta girl,” Ginny smiled. She stood up, tossing a few coins down on the table, “I’ve got this—you’ve got more pressing financial commitments on the horizon.”

Hermione groaned, heading out of the café with the redhead.

They walked down the street together in amiable silence. Hermione felt a little lighter after admitting to Ginny that she kind of liked thinking about her tryst with Fleur. It felt good to be able to share, even if she hadn’t thought too deeply about it herself.

Ginny slowed down as they reached the marble steps leading to Gringotts.

“So… We’re parting ways here?” Ginny asked, nodding at Hermione.

“Yeah,” Hermione sighed.

Ginny pulled Hermione into a tight hug.

“It’ll all be all right, ‘Mione,” Ginny replied, “And if it isn’t, let me know and I can go beat Phlegm’s ass.”

“She’s pregnant, Gin,” Hermione snorted, rolling her eyes at the dramatics of her friend.

Ginny shrugged.

“You know what I mean,” Ginny grinned lopsidedly. She patted Hermione on the shoulder and ambled off down the street.

Hermione inhaled sharply. She hurried up the steps, heading in to the opulent bank. Her sneakers squelched hideously on the marble floor as she walked to one of the front desks. Hermione winced at each ugly noise.

She was dressed simply today in an outfit typical of attending lectures. She was wearing tight black jeans, a black tee, and some black Converse sneakers. A leather jacket completed the look, her satchel hung over her shoulder.

“Hi, um, could I see Ms Fleur Delacour?” Hermione asked the goblin at the counter.

Predictably, the goblin looked excruciatingly annoyed, rolling his eyes before muttering to a colleague. Hermione could see how Fleur fit in around Gringotts. Her moodiness would virtually be a sunny disposition amongst the goblins.

The goblin finished muttering and turned back to Hermione.

“She will be up shortly,” he informed her tersely, “Wait over there.”

He waved her over to the side of the marble room with unusually long-fingered hands.

Hermione leant against the wall, letting her eyes flutter shut for a moment. She was exhausted, rundown with the stress of the past few days. She knew eventually she had to crash. Hermione hoped it was soon, she desperately needed some quality sleep.

“What do you want?” a heavy French accent caused Hermione’s eyes to snap open again.

Fleur was standing in front of her, hands on her hips. She was dressed in a light blue blouse tucked in to a tight charcoal skirt. Her hair was in a loose braid that hung over one shoulder. She was frowning, her pretty face looking entirely unimpressed with Hermione’s presence.

“I thought we needed to discuss some things,” Hermione said cautiously.

As predicted, Fleur rolled her eyes.

“I told you the results the other day,” Fleur replied coldly, “I’ve only just gone on my break and would rather not waste it in the middle of the Gringotts atrium.”

“Well, let me take you out for a coffee then,” Hermione offered.

Fleur bit her lip, considering the offer for a moment.

“Fine,” she replied, turning and walking towards the exit, “But you’re paying.”

  
Hermione hurried after her, catching up to her as she began to descend down the steps outside. Fleur stopped as they ran into Bill, hurrying up the steps.

Seeing the two together, he grinned broadly.

“Well, hello,” Bill smirked, looking at the two of them.

Fleur glared at him but leaned in and kissed both his cheeks.

“Salut, I am just heading out for a coffee,” Fleur replied, “I will be back soon.”

“A coffee with Hermione, huh?” Bill asked, a playful look on his face.

Fleur groaned and averted her eyes, causing Bill to chuckle.

“I’ll see you soon, blondie,” Bill teased, heading up the steps. As he passed Hermione, he leaned in close to her ear.

“Good luck taming the Veela,” Bill muttered, still grinning widely.

Hermione rolled her eyes, following Fleur as she continued rapidly down the steps. Hermione fell into step with the blonde as they walked down Diagon Alley.

“What did Bill say to you?” Fleur asked, not even looking at Hermione.

“Nothing,” Hermione lied, “Just to have a good coffee.”

“Typical,” Fleur snapped, obviously interpreting it as a jibe.

She stopped walking outside a small café, obviously making her selection for coffee. Hermione sighed, stepping forward and holding the door opened. Fleur nodded, the shadow of a smile on her lips, before entering.

Hermione was surprised. That was the closest she had come to getting a positive reaction from the blonde.

The café was French, a wide selection of pastries in a cabinet by the till.

“I’ll have a coffee, black, and no pastries,” Fleur said, turning quickly on Hermione and walking over to a small window table.

Hermione sighed. Fleur truly was the definition of high maintenance.

Hermione made the order, selecting for herself a nice cappuccino and a pan au chocolat pastry. Thanking the man at the till, she went and joined Fleur at the window seat.

Fleur was watching her intently. Her deep cerulean eyes were tumultuous, revealing a hint of emotion beneath the impassive exterior.

“So,” Fleur prompted, tapping a perfectly manicured hand on the table.

“I wanted to let you know that I will fully support you and the baby,” Hermione said, rushing all the words out at once. She felt a weight off her chest at finally getting the words out.

“Really?” Fleur replied. Her face and tone were neutral, not betraying a shred of reaction.

“Yes,” Hermione replied, “I’m still a student, of course, but I will find a steady job when I graduate at the end of this school year. That and I have reward money for my part in the war. I’ve been careful to be frugal with it, so that should help.”

“It isn’t about money,” Fleur replied, “I have my own job and a generous amount of family money to my name.”

Hermione sighed, politely pausing the conversation as a waiter came and dropped off their coffees and her pastry. She thanked the waiter. Fleur sulkily looked out the window, ignoring him. When the waiter left, Fleur turned her attentions back to Hermione.

“I know,” Hermione conceded, “I’m not just talking about financial support. I’ll be there at every appointment, test, class, everything. Just let me know and I’ll show up. Blimey, I can even be the contact point if you need.”

“And you want to be involved in the child’s life?” Fleur asked, raising her chin.

“Of course!” Hermione responded, she pulled open her satchel and started placing papers and scrolls of parchment on the table.

“What is that?” Fleur asked, eying the papers with thinly veiled curiosity.

“I’ve been researching healthy child development,” Hermione replied, still putting papers on the table, “If we want our baby to have the best chance at life, we’ve got to start making some solid plans now.”

Hermione was halted by a soft hand resting on top of hers. She looked up and Fleur was looking at her with a smile on her face.

Seeing Fleur smile properly, and genuinely, for the first time threw Hermione for a loop. Her stomach flipped and her breath caught in her throat.

“You are very prepared,” Fleur said softly, her hand still on Hermione’s.

“I—Erm—I like to be prepared,” Hermione explained awkwardly, “I’ve been reading up on everything potentially relevant since my, er, error.”

Fleur finally took her hand off Hermione’s, reaching for her coffee. Hermione gasped and put her hand on top of Fleur’s cup. Fleur frowned, looking up at Hermione.

“You need to limit your caffeine intake,” Hermione explained apologetically, “I should have thought of that before ordering. It’s not good for the baby.”

Fleur’s frown faded and she put her coffee back down, leaning back in her chair and folding her arms.

“What else?” Fleur asked, watching Hermione with interest.

“We need to get you on some vitamins and supplements,” Hermione explained, “I’ve spent some time comparing Muggle methods with Magical methods and tracking statistics and results. I think if we did a combination of both, we would be getting the best possible option.”

“Really?” Fleur asked, arching a perfectly groomed eyebrow. She crossed her legs.

“R-Really,” Hermione replied, “I can show you my research if you want.”

“Not necessary,” Fleur replied. She reached over and plucked Hermione’s pan au chocolat from her plate, taking a bite.

Hermione watched her, transfixed.

Fleur placed the remainder of the pastry back on Hermione’s plate when she was done.

There was a flake of pastry on Fleur’s plump bottom lip. Hermione leaned forward without thinking, cupping Fleur’s chin. The proud blonde did nothing in response, allowing Hermione to touch her. Hermione ran her thumb over Fleur’s bottom lip, clearing the pastry from it. Her lip felt velvety soft on the pad of her thumb.

Hermione looked up, her eyes locking with cerulean.

“You had… You had a bit of pastry there,” Hermione explained absently.

“Merci,” Fleur replied softly.

Hermione realised that she was still cupping Fleur’s face with her hand and withdrew it suddenly, as if burned.

“Sorry,” Hermione muttered.

There was a silence between them in which Fleur licked her bottom lip. Hermione couldn’t draw her eyes away.

“I have an appointment,” Fleur said finally, “Thursday at four thirty. I’m finishing work early and getting changed into something more comfortable first. Office wear is hardly ideal for a check up with a Healer.”

“So I’ll meet you at your place?” Hermione asked.

“Outside Gringotts,” Fleur replied quickly, “Or at my Healer’s offices if you prefer.”

Hermione sipped at her cappuccino thoughtfully. She had made huge inroads with Fleur during this coffee. Fleur had smiled, Fleur had invited her to an appointment… But it appeared the blonde still wanted to keep a healthy distance between them. She didn’t even want Hermione to know where she lived.

“Fleur,” Hermione sighed. She was exasperated now. She was low on sleep and had shown Fleur no end of patience up until now. “We’ve already slept together. In light of that, what’s letting me see your apartment?”

“Don’t remind me,” Fleur drawled, iciness descending over her features once more.

Hermione felt her temper flare.

She had bent over backwards for the blonde. Sought her out, paid for the pregnancy test and taken her out for a coffee. _She_ was the one putting in all the effort for a mistake that, really, they had both made.

“From what I recall, you were a _more_ than willing participant,” Hermione retorted. Fleur frowned.

“A drunken mistake,” Fleur replied, looking out the window.

“Yeah? Well that goes for me too, but you don’t see me throwing that in your face,” Hermione shot back. Fleur’s eyes snapped back to look at her.

“Excusez-moi?” Fleur replied, scowling.

Hermione knew she should probably stop, but all the frustrations of the entire situation were suddenly bubbling forth.

“Yes, I’ll grant that you’re breathtakingly beautiful,” Hermione said heatedly, “But your personality leaves much to be desired. From the very first moment I met you, you’ve given me an impression of arrogance, conceit, and selfish disdain of the feelings of others… Every moment since then has done nothing but build further on the solid foundation of dislike I already had for you. I’m set to do the right thing by you and this child, but let’s make one thing clear—I’m not another one of your hopeless suitors.”

Fleur stared at Hermione silently. The rage was practically radiating off her. Finally, she uncrossed her legs.

“Fine,” Fleur said neutrally, the very picture of an ice princess, “I will see you Thursday, four thirty.”

She stood up and walked out of the café, her heels clicking loudly as she stormed out.

Hermione watched her go, her own anger beginning to subside as she realised the weight of her words.


	4. Chapter 4

“Caught up with Bill after classes yesterday,” Ron commented, devouring an ice cream.

Ron, Harry and Hermione were once again killing time having ice cream at Florean’s before Hermione had to meet Fleur.

“Yeah?” Hermione had a feeling she wouldn’t like what Ron would say.

She had been laying low since her catch up with Fleur. While she had felt a hell of a lot better after taking her frustrations out on Fleur, she was feeling quite awful about it now.

“Fleur is noooot happy with you, my friend,” Ron chuckled, leaning back dangerously in his chair.

“Yeah, I kind of lost it at her,” Hermione said guiltily, rubbing the back of her neck, “I’ve just been so exhausted and she was being so rude…”

Harry clucked his tongue in disapproval.

“Hermione, not a very good baby-daddy move,” Harry lectured, half-joking, half-serious.

Ron leaned back further in his chair, giggling. He was balancing on the back legs of the chair, a leg against the table holding him in place.

“Hey, Harry, d’you think Fleur calls ‘Mione daddy?” Ron joked, giggling further.

Hermione kicked his leg out from the table, causing Ron to tumble backwards in his chair onto the ground. His ice cream capsized over him, splattering the front of his top.

“Jeez, ‘Mione, I was just kidding!” Ron groaned.

“Yeah, well, get a better sense of humour,” Hermione retorted, getting up from her seat, “I’ll see you guys later.”

She headed off, mildly amused that Harry was laughing at Ron’s predicament instead of helping the redhead.

She walked down Diagon Alley, turning off and walking several more blocks. She guessed Fleur must live quite centrally if her Healer was so close.

She was feeling even more dread than usual at meeting Fleur. She wondered just how cold the part-Veela would be this time.

She had her answer as she arrived outside the Healer’s offices. Fleur was leaning against a wall, arms folded tightly across her chest. She was dressed casually, in a loose-knit sweater and tight blue jeans. White sneakers were on her feet.

Hermione realised with embarrassment that she was wearing the exact same outfit she had been wearing the last time she saw Fleur, the black jeans and tee plus her leather jacket and Converse. She wondered if the fashionable Veela was silently judging her for this.

“You’re late,” Fleur said, as Hermione got within earshot of her.

“I’m five minutes early for the appointment,” Hermione scoffed.

“Which is five minutes late for meeting me _before_ the appointment,” Fleur retorted, “Come on.”

She went to walk ahead of Hermione, limping badly.

“Woah, woah, what happened?!” Hermione asked, grabbing Fleur by the arm.

Fleur was irritable.

“Just a stupid Quidditch injury. Probably a pulled muscle or something,” Fleur muttered, trying to push Hermione away.

“Quidditch?!” Hermione shrieked, “What on Earth are you doing playing Quidditch when you’re pregnant?!”

“Barely pregnant,” Fleur retorted, trying to limp forward and wincing. She hissed at the pain.

“Gods, Fleur,” Hermione was concerned, “I don’t know how you made it here in one piece! Good thing we’re seeing a Healer.”

Hermione snaked her arm around Fleur’s petite waist, pulling one of Fleur’s arms around her neck. Fleur made small noises of protest, but Hermione insisted on helping her in.

Fleur was lighter than she thought she would be. Hermione tried not to dwell too much on how closely Fleur’s body was pressed against her as she helped her in. Hermione helped Fleur into a waiting room chair before checking them in at reception. She came back to sit beside Fleur, not even noticing that her arm draped across the back of the blonde’s chair protectively. 

“I should really learn some Healing charms myself,” Fleur muttered, leaning back in her chair.

“All the good ones require years of training,” Hermione replied, “Otherwise anyone could be a Healer.”

“Still, it is handy even knowing how to clear up cuts or bruises,” Fleur replied, “I learned a few things during the war but it would be nice to know more.”

“I found a good one when I was getting rid of…” Hermione trailed off, blushing as she realised where she was going.

“Getting rid of what?” Fleur asked, turning to look directly at Hermione.

The blonde’s gaze was so intense that Hermione shrunk under it. She felt compelled to answer, despite her embarrassment.

“For getting rid of the lovebites you left over me after that night at Grimmauld Place,” Hermione finished, ducking her head with embarrassment. She peeked up long enough to see that a light pink blush had painted its way across Fleur’s delicate cheekbones.

“Delacour?”

Hermione and Fleur looked up to see a Healer standing in scrubs, clipboard in hand. He was twirling his wand impatiently.

“Oui,” Fleur answered, getting up with a wince.

“Exam room four, please,” the Healer intoned, before turning and heading off.

Hermione got up, watching as Fleur struggled to step forward. A surge of protectiveness kicked in and she leaned in, scooping Fleur into her arms.

“Hermione!” Fleur protested, slapping at Hermione’s collarbone. Hermione ignored the blonde, carrying her bridal style down to the exam room.

Entering the room, Hermione lay her down on the bed in the exam room. She ignored the glare Fleur was shooting at her, sitting down on a spare chair in the room.

“Hello, I’m Doctor Fantail,” the MediWizard greeted, scribbling on his clipboard, “So Ms Delacour, you’re here for a pregnancy checkup?”

“And she needs her leg checked,” Hermione interjected, “She had a Quidditch accident and can barely walk.”

The Healer nodded, looking up from his clipboard to glance at Fleur and then Hermione.

“Is this your friend?” the Healer asked, pointing his quill at Hermione.

“The other parent of the child,” Fleur explained, “I’m part-Veela.”

“Ah,” the Healer replied, scribbling some more on his clipboard.

He put the clipboard down, putting on some latex gloves. He stepped forward, massaging Fleur’s leg around the knee.

Fleur winced.

“That hurts,” Fleur whimpered, “A lot.”

“Ahuh,” Fantail commented, “And here?”

He moved his massage slightly above Fleur’s knee and she yelped.

“Even more,” Fleur hissed from between gritted teeth.

“Hit by a Bludger?” Fantail asked. Fleur nodded.

Dr Fantail stopped his exploratory massage, picking up his clipboard and making several notes. He put it down again and picked up his wand.

“Okey doke, now time to check on the pregnancy,” Fantail commented, murmuring a spell and doing a complicated wand movement, “Lift up your top a little, please.”

Fleur lifted up her sweater and tee, revealing her toned stomach.

Hermione found her eyes drawn to the sight. She could see the outline of Fleur’s abs and the dip of her hips disappearing into the waist of her jeans.

Her stomach began to glow with a golden light, swirls of silver tangling in shapes above it. Dr Fantail cocked his head to one side, observing the swirls carefully.

“Approximately four weeks along,” Dr Fantail commented, “Looking healthy. Everything is coming along nicely.”

“Good,” Hermione sighed with relief.

Dr Fantail wrote some more on his clipboard before taking off his latex gloves.

Fleur sat up on the table, pulling her top down again.

“So,” Fantail turned to face them, “You need to start taking your vitamins and supplements for the pregnancy, are you familiar with what to take?”

“We know which ones,” Hermione smiled, proud that her research was paying off.

“Great,” Dr Fantail smiled, before looking at Fleur, “It’s great when the other parent is engaged like this. Makes the pregnancy a heck of a lot easier. Anyway, the real problem we have is your leg. Usually, we would just give you an easy muscle-repair ointment or tonic that would fix that right up. However, it can produce some nasty side effects on an unborn child.”

“So what do we do?” Fleur asked, a little disconcerted at the news.

Dr Fantail cleared his throat, referring to his clipboard.

“Well, in these cases, we usually defer to Muggle medicine,” Dr Fantail said, raising his bushy eyebrows, “You can get an anti-inflammatory ointment to rub in to the injury, which should help with the pain. Then I can prescribe some stretches to do after the first week or so to build back up your mobility and strength.”

“Stretches?!” Fleur echoed, looking shocked.

“I’m sorry, it’s the safest option for your baby, ma’am,” Fantail smiled apologetically.

“It’s fine, I’m familiar with Muggle practices,” Hermione explained, “I’m Muggleborn. I can help her.”

“Great,” Fantail smiled, before turning back to Fleur, “What a supportive partner you have.”

“She’s not my partner,” Fleur sniffed, looking away.

“I’ll see you again in a few weeks for another check up,” Fantail commented, “Hopefully your leg will be better by then.”

“A few weeks?!” Fleur groaned, “Why must Muggle medicine be so _slow_?!”

“Do you have a Floo Network here?” Hermione asked Fantail, “I don’t like the idea of her walking home like this.”

“Yes, yes,” Fantail confirmed, “The fireplace is at the rear of the waiting room. Plenty of Floo Powder in a wooden trinket box on top of the mantle.”

“Hermione—“ Fleur began, but was interrupted by Hermione stepping forward and hoisting the blonde over her shoulder. Fleur made an even more outraged noise than the first time Hermione had picked her up. Granted, this was a far less graceful way to be carried. She was slapping her hands on Hermione’s back, her long hair trailing behind Hermione as she stepped forward to Dr Fantail. Her toned legs were draped down Hermione’s front, held securely by one of Hermione’s arms. She was bent over Hermione’s shoulder, her ass unceremoniously in the air. Hermione reached forward and took a note from the Healer with her free hand, thanking him.

“Take good care of her,” Dr Fantail advised.

Hermione smiled.

“Don’t worry, I will,” Hermione promised, patting Fleur’s butt without thinking. Fleur let out another noise of indignation.

“Let me _down_ , Hermione,” Fleur growled.

“Once I get you home and know you’re safe and healthy,” Hermione promised. She took her job as a parent seriously, and she was not about to let the mother of her child limp home on an injury that needed treatment.

Hermione left the exam room, carrying Fleur as she went to reception and paid before making their next appointment. A few curious eyes in the waiting room were looking at Hermione carrying the blonde, which only served to aggravate Fleur further.

“Hermione, you’ll be sorry,” Fleur hissed, slapping her palms against Hermione’s back.

“No, I would be sorry if you made your injury worse,” Hermione replied, “Relax, you’ll be home in a moment.”

She walked to the end of the waiting room, opening the trinket box on the mantelpiece like the Healer had instructed. Grabbing a handful of Floo Powder, she tossed it in the fireplace.

“I’m not telling you my address,” Fleur said through gritted teeth.

“That’s fine,” Hermione replied bossily, “I can always carry you through the streets like this. I’m sure it would make a fantastic workout.”

Fleur let out an angry noise of frustration.

“ _Fine!_ Apartment 101 Spickle Building, Gillyweed Place,” Fleur replied.

Hermione repeated the address for the Floo, before stepping in carefully. She knew Fleur would be somehow even more furious with her after this, but she had made a vow to do the right thing by Fleur and the baby.

Hermione arrived in a small studio apartment. There was a small kitchenette and table on one side of the room and a bed on the other side of the room. She was surprised Fleur had not gone for something more opulent.

The room was minimally decorated, but very tastefully done.

Hermione stepped in, finally hoisting Fleur off her shoulder and onto the bed on the side of the room.

_*Thwack*_

Fleur slapped Hermione across the cheek. Hermione flinched, taking a step back from the extremely angry Veela.

“Hey, I’m just doing the best thing for you and the baby!” Hermione exclaimed defensively.

“What part of that necessitated humiliating me at my Healer’s offices?” Fleur fumed, “I like to maintain a certain amount of dignity, Hermione!”

“It was the easiest way to get you out!” Hermione defended, “I’m just _helping_. You heard Dr Fantail! Besides, you must have been in a lot of pain on your walk there.”

Fleur glared at Hermione for a while, before her temper seemed to lower slightly.

“Fine,” Fleur said finally, “But if you touch my ass again, you lose a hand.”

Hermione blushed, apologising profusely.

“I may have got a little carried away in the moment,” Hermione conceded, rubbing the back of her neck, “Anyway, I’ll pop out and collect the things you need. I’ll be back soon.”

“You don’t need to come back,” Fleur said icily, “You can just leave them at the door.”

“I’m _helping_!” Hermione shot back, heading for the door.

Fleur’s worst habit might be her rudeness, but it was no match for Hermione’s worst habit: her bossiness and need to take charge. Hermione’s determination had only been spurred on by the appointment with the Healer. She was going to take good care of Fleur and the baby.

* * *

Hermione returned to Fleur’s flat as soon as she had finished collecting all the items she needed. She was pleased to see that Fleur had left the front door unlocked for her.

“You know, it isn’t safe for you and the baby to leave the door unlocked like that,” Hermione lectured, despite being pleased.

“I’m barely pregnant and I survived a war with Death Eaters,” Fleur scoffed disdainfully, “I think I can look after myself.”

“Right, well,” Hermione said matter-of-factly. She came in and put her shopping bags down on the table, “I got you all the vitamins and supplements you need, some good anti-inflammatory gel, and I also picked you up some dinner.”

“Dinner?!” Fleur objected loudly, sitting up on her bed so suddenly that she winced.

“Do you want it now or later?” Hermione asked, checking her watch, “It’s six thirty, I don’t know what time you prefer to eat.”

“What _dinner_ did you get?” Fleur asked, her voice dripping with annoyance. She clearly did not expect great things from Hermione’s offering.

“I got you something healthy,” Hermione explained, “Poached chicken, spinach, plenty of vegetables. Food high in protein and high in iron.”

The annoyance on Fleur’s face faded. Hermione could tell she was pleasantly surprised. Hermione felt inwardly proud of herself. Pushing on in the face of Fleur’s intimidating demeanour was working out fine so far.

“Okay, I’ll eat that,” Fleur conceded out loud. Hermione hid her smile, turning to rummage in Fleur’s cupboard for plates and cutlery. Dishing the food up for Fleur, she brought it to Fleur on her bed. She retreated to Fleur’s dining room table on the other side of the studio apartment, dishing herself up some food.

She watched the proud blonde across the room. A ghost of a smile was playing at Fleur’s lips as she ate, briefly shutting her eyes to savour the taste. Hermione had made sure she didn’t sacrifice health for taste, selecting food with a healthy sauce on it.

_‘Good work, Granger,’_ Hermione thought to herself, _‘You’re nailing this baby-daddy thing.’_

She momentarily cringed at using Ron’s words, even just in her own thoughts.

She finished up her dinner, crossing the room and collecting Fleur’s dishes before cleaning up in the kitchen.

“Merci,” Fleur said quietly from the other side of the room.

It was quiet, but Hermione still caught the thanks, bringing a slight smile to her face.

Hermione poured a large glass of water for Fleur, now bringing her a mix of supplements and vitamins. The blonde nodded silently, taking them and washing them down with the water.

Hermione nodded, pleased.

“Okay, now just the anti-inflammatory for your leg,” Hermione said, as Fleur put the glass down on her bedside table.

“Oh, I think I can do that myself,” Fleur sniffed, looking away.

“Have you used it before?” Hermione asked, cocking an eyebrow, “Muggles use it all the time. I’m familiar. Plus, it’s easier to have someone else rub it in.”

“Fine,” Fleur said with a slight frown, “But then you are leaving.”

“Fine by me,” Hermione shrugged, turning away to fish out the anti-inflammatory.

She glanced around the studio apartment some more. If Fleur came from money, why did she have such a small apartment? It was curious. The small dining table and chairs appeared modern and expensive. Her bed was covered in expensive looking white cotton sheets and a bedspread.

“I keep a small apartment because I travel so much for work,” Fleur replied, as if reading Hermione’s mind, “For many parts of the year I am living out of a suitcase.”

“Oh,” Hermione commented, turning back around to Fleur now she had the tube of gel in her hands.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Fleur was leaning back on her pillows expectantly. Her arms were folded tightly across her chest. She had disrobed to her underwear, although Hermione could not see much of her lacy bra from behind her arms.

The underwear, however, was sinfully skimpy. Hermione’s eyes ran down Fleur’s taut stomach, the lacy panties and her long toned thighs.

“Hermione,” Fleur growled warningly.

“R-Right,” Hermione said, recovering.

She twisted the lid off the tube in her hands and put some of the gel on her hands. She spread it over the knee and lower thigh of Fleur’s injured leg.

“Get on with it,” Fleur hurried her, looking thoroughly unimpressed. Whatever small win Hermione had achieved with dinner had disappeared as Fleur’s mood soured once more.

“Yep,” Hermione agreed, setting her expression to be as professional as possible. After all, she was just doing another task to look after Fleur and the baby, “Bear in mind that this is a type of heat gel.”

She shuffled to sit on her knees on the bed, between Fleur’s legs. Fleur raised her injured leg, allowing Hermione to grasp it. Hermione began to work at the muscles around Fleur’s knee, apologising as the blonde winced.

After a while, Fleur sighed.

“Actually, that is feeling quite good now,” Fleur sighed, shutting her eyes.

“It should,” Hermione agreed, moving up to Fleur’s thigh. She massaged carefully, watching Fleur’s delicate facial features. She winced a little more before Hermione had worked the muscles well.

Hermione felt her cheeks burn as an involuntary moan escaped Fleur’s mouth. She was suddenly taken back to the night of Grimmauld Place.

* * *

**_That night:_ **

_Hermione stumbled out to a balcony, desperate for some fresh air. Ginny and Luna had got carried away with the shots. They clearly had a much higher tolerance for alcohol than Hermione. They had disappeared to play beer pong while Hermione was left feeling like the room was tilting._

_She walked over to the rails of the balcony, leaning over and gulping in cold air greedily._

_“You okay, Hermione?” a male voice rumbled._

_Hermione swung round clumsily, leaning her back on the railing._

_Bill Weasley was standing in front of her, Fleur Delacour beside him. The two were joined at the hip, best friends since they had met at Gringotts._

_Bill was looking exceedingly handsome. His hair was a little long, but stylishly fell around his face. He had a dusting of stubble across his chiselled jawline. He was wearing a white linen button-up shirt tucked into some tan chinos._

_“You look beautiful, Bill,” Hermione slurred. Bill chuckled loudly._

_Fleur giggled. She was standing beside Bill, looking about as drunk as Hermione felt. Her long hair was loose and she was wearing a form fitting dress that came down to her mid thigh._

_“You look beautiful, Fleur,” Hermione grinned widely, her eyes moving to the Frenchwoman now._

_Fleur smiled goofily, looking at the handsome redhead beside her._

_“She said I look beautiful, Bill,” Fleur said, nudging him._

_Bill laughed._

_“She said I look beautiful too, love!” Bill protested lightly. Fleur pouted, making puppy eyes at Bill before he sighed. “Fine, you’re the one she thinks is beautiful, Fleur.”_

_Fleur smiled widely._

_Hermione wasn’t sure she had noticed just how adorable Fleur Delacour could be. Hot, yes. Intimidating, yes. But Hermione had never seen her being cute before. It was a look that suited the blonde._

_Bill turned around, his attentions drawn to a tall brunette man who had just walked past the doorway._

_“Fleur, I love you babe, but I just saw that cute guy Eli walk past,” Bill said, patting Fleur on the shoulder, “I’ll track you down later.”_

_Fleur just nodded, still looking at Hermione._

_Neither said a thing as the redhead dashed off back into the house._

_Hermione stepped forward, walking up to Fleur as the smile on her face grew._

_“I’ve never seen you looking as cute as this,” Hermione commented, stepping too close to Fleur. She stumbled and almost fell over. Fleur caught her in her arms, giggling._

_“Haven’t you?” Fleur smirked, cocking an eyebrow._

_“There’s that ego,” Hermione slurred, grinning her head off._

_“I don’ have an ego,” Fleur pouted playfully. Hermione placed a finger against Fleur’s lips._

_“Shh,” Hermione silenced her, “You really do… But it’s hot.”_

_Fleur’s eyes flashed with a look Hermione couldn’t quite place. Before she could work it out, Fleur’s lips were on hers, her hands pulling her closer by the waist. Hermione’s hands tangled into Fleur’s silky blonde hair as they stumbled through the doorway and into the hallway._

_They crashed against a wall, Hermione pushing Fleur against it. The blonde made a moan of pleasure and Hermione took the opportunity to slip her tongue into Fleur’s mouth. It felt divine. A type of intoxication far exceeding the alcohol running through Hermione’s veins._

_“Woah, Hermione!” Luna commented, as her and Ginny walked past them in the hallway._

_Hermione momentarily broke the kiss, dazed. This gave Ginny and Luna an opportunity to see exactly who it was she had pinned to the wall. Ginny cracked up laughing._

_“Who would’ve thought, huh?” Ginny giggled, “Didn’t know you had it in you, Hermione!”_

_Hermione ignored her friends, taking Fleur’s hand and leading the Veela down the hallway to her bedroom. Fleur’s eyes didn’t leave the brunette_ _the entire time they slipped down the hallway, an excited smile on her face._

**_Present day:_ **

Hermione’s eyes snapped open. She had totally zoned out thinking about the drunken night at Grimmauld Place. Her hands were still massaging the blonde beauty’s thigh and the blonde was biting back a pleasured whimper.

“Erm, sorry,” Hermione said, drawing back her hands.

Fleur’s eyes flickered open and a pretty blush bloomed in her cheeks. She averted her eyes and sat up straighter on the bed, pulling herself further away from Hermione. A look of embarrassment flitted across her features and Hermione wondered if her mind had been on similar topics.

“Goodnight,” Fleur said abruptly.

“Uh…” Hermione stood up, not wanting to make the situation more awkward, “Okay.”

She moved across the room and packed her things back into her satchel. Slinging it on her shoulder, she turned back to the blonde, who was still looking away.

“I’ll stop by tomorrow night to help you with all this again,” Hermione said.

“I don’t need you to,” Fleur replied icily.

“Who will do the anti-inflam—“

“I’ll get Bill to,” Fleur interrupted.

“Well, we should still catch up soon,” Hermione pressed, hovering by the door, “I told you I want to be involved with all this.”

“Fine,” Fleur sighed, waving a hand dismissively at Hermione, “Come and see me in a few days.”

Hermione nodded, bidding the blonde goodbye before stepping out of the apartment. She leaned her back against the closed door, sighing heavily. If anything, she had even more on her mind now.


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione tried to stay away and give Fleur her space, she really did. The first day after the massage debacle, Hermione focussed on nothing but her classes and study (although she did sneak in some more research on pregnancies and Veela).

She had read that Veela would experience a more violent surge in hormones than the average human woman during a pregnancy. Given Fleur’s already unpredictable temper, Hermione was not looking forward to dealing with that.

She was still having trouble sleeping, unable to get more than a couple of hours’ rest at a time. It was beginning to take a toll on her. She felt like she was being fuelled solely by coffee and anxious energy these days.

The second day after seeing Fleur, Hermione was an agitated mess. She sat at a café with Ron. Harry was off with a tutor. He’d been holed up at St Mungo’s for a week after a nasty Quidditch accident so had to catch up on his studies. Many things had changed since Hogwarts, but Harry’s uncanny ability to get injured definitely had not.

“Feeling calmer these days?” Ron asked, noticing Hermione had yet to snap at him.

Hermione smiled gently. She had been biting his head off a lot. It wasn’t her fault entirely. Ron was an easy target for anyone who was angry and cruising for an argument.

“Not really,” Hermione replied, “But I’ve just got to focus on looking after Fleur in her state, no matter how much we might rub each other the wrong way.”

“Wonder if that’s what she told herself when she looked after you,” Ron commented, licking at his ice cream.

“Huh? What do you mean?” Hermione asked. She was a little lost.

“She was the one that nursed you at Shell Cottage after… You know…” Ron and Harry usually avoided referring to her torture at Malfoy Manor. ”After Bellatrix.”

“She was?” Hermione asked. She was surprised at that revelation.

“You don’t remember much from then, do you?” Ron asked, pausing between laps of his ice cream. His hair was in a mess today. That and the ice cream cone gave him a decidedly boyish look.

Hermione shook her head.

She herself avoided thinking of back then. It made her arm sting, almost as if the scar itself remembered.

“Fleur was the one who took after nursing you better,” Ron explained, “She fed you, washed you, sat at your bedside. I remember because we were all pretty surprised. You two had never particularly got along before then but man, she was dedicated.”

Hermione tried to think of her recovery.

Her mind just conjured up shadowy blurs. A small single bed by a window. The sound of crashing waves in the distance. Nightmares that made her chest feel like it was going to burst, her heart was beating so hard. A hand holding hers tightly as she lay drenched in the cold sweat of her nightmare.

“I was on a lot of painkillers,” Hermione said, squinting as she tried to remember better.

“Yeah, for good reason,” Ron said darkly, “I… I honestly thought you might die, ‘Mione. None of us had any real healing skills. It’s a bloody miracle you survived.”

Hermione’s memory didn’t provide much else… The first of her clear memories were from when she awoke, aching and sore, lucid after the painkillers wore off after the worst of it. By then, Harry and Ron were perched at her bedside. In her mind, she had just assumed they had been the ones looking after her and holding her hand through it all.

“Incredible,” Hermione commented.

She checked her wristwatch. She figured it was a good enough time as any to visit Fleur. She’d avoided going too early and avoided going during a mealtime.

All the readings she had been doing on pregnancy and on Veela told her that Veela would be even more hormonal than the average pregnant woman. Considering Fleur’s temper thus far, Hermione didn’t want to tempt fate by showing up at a bad time.

She bid goodbye to Ron and walked to Fleur’s apartment.

She still couldn’t believe Fleur was the one who looked after her at Shell Cottage. Fleur had never brought it up! Although Hermione supposed they had never exactly talked about it.

Hermione knocked at the door of Fleur’s apartment.

No answer.

She knocked again, louder.

Hermione was just about to knock a third time when the door flung open.   
  
“What?!” Fleur growled at Hermione.

Hermione froze, taking in the appearance of the aggravated looking part-Veela.

Her hair was tousled as if she had just woken, although it was after lunchtime. She was wearing a silk gown and the sash had come undone. She was wearing a lacy set of underwear underneath the gown, not dissimilar to what she had been wearing the last time Hermione saw her.

Merlin, it would take Hermione some getting used to. Fleur seemed entirely at ease walking around in her underwear. It reminded Hermione of how unbothered she was by her nudity the morning after their one night stand.

_‘She really isn’t self-conscious, is she?’_ Hermione thought to herself.

Hermione wondered if she was capable of feeling that comfortable in her own skin. Not likely. She’d always felt awkward about herself at Hogwarts. Then after the war, she was self conscious of her scars. The times she had dated or been intimate with someone, she had always insisted that the lights were off so their eyes wouldn’t linger on her imperfections.

She snapped out of her thinking as Fleur turned on her heel and stormed into her studio apartment, leaving the door wide open. She had apparently got sick of waiting for an explanation from Hermione.

Hermione followed her in, shutting the door carefully behind her.

“Something wrong?” Hermione asked, regretting asking as soon as the words left her mouth.

“Something _wrong?!_ ” Fleur echoed angrily, “Look at me!”

She pulled her gown open, gesturing at her body.

Hermione gulped as her stomach flipped.

“Erm…” Hermione wasn’t sure what to say. Fleur was like Aphrodite herself. She was a slight figure, but toned and curved to perfection. It wasn’t helping that Hermione could see through the lacy underwear.

“This!” Fleur said, gesturing more specifically at her toned stomach, “You’ve ruined my body!”

Hermione laughed without thinking. Fleur still had abs for Merlin’s sake. Fleur scowled dangerously.

“Fleur! You’re only a month pregnant!” Hermione managed between laughs, “You’re _barely_ showing! Honestly, I can’t even notice the difference right now.”

“Are you serious?!” Fleur hissed, stepping closer to Hermione.

Hermione reminded herself of her reading. Veela were even more hormonal than a human woman during pregnancy. She needed to tread carefully.

“Erm, I mean, what I’m trying to say is that you look great,” Hermione backtracked. Fleur’s eyes flashed with anger.

“This is _your_ fault,” Fleur exclaimed, jabbing Hermione in the chest, “I spent _all_ morning throwing up because of you and _now_ you’re saying I _always_ looked like this?!”

“Fleur… It’s not my fault you had morning sickness,” Hermione said defensively. Fleur gasped in outrage.

“Of course it is! You’re the one that got me pregnant!” Fleur raged.

Hermione took a deep breath, trying not to get wound up. She took her satchel off her shoulder instead, walking over to the dining table to put it down.

“Last I checked it took two people to make a pregnancy,” Hermione murmured under her breath, unable to help herself.

“Hermione!” Fleur snapped.

Hermione turned around, already flinching at the rage she was about to incur from the pregnant Veela. To her horror, Fleur burst into tears instead.

“Um… Are you okay?” Hermione asked, not knowing what to do.

“You think I’m repulsive, don’t you?” Fleur sobbed.

“N-no! Of course not!” Hermione stammered. She had no idea how to calm the woman down. She wasn’t very good with crying.

“Yes you do,” Fleur sniffled, “You always look so annoyed with me… And now I don’t even have my looks… And I just feel sick all the time! I feel sick right now!”

“Well, Fleur—“ Hermione began, trying to put on her best attempt at a comforting voice.

But Fleur pushed past her, rushing into the bathroom and getting onto her knees in front of the toilet. She began to retch.

“Oh! Merlin!” Hermione gasped, hurrying behind the blonde.

She pulled Fleur’s long hair back from her face, holding it out of the way. Fleur began to throw up violently.

Hermione dutifully stood behind her, holding her hair back. Every now and again she would pat Fleur on the back in a way she imagined was reassuring. She couldn’t help but notice how silky and soft Fleur’s platinum blonde hair felt. It actually felt quite nice to have her hands amongst it.

Finally, Fleur finished, wiping her mouth before flushing the toilet.

  
Hermione helped her to her feet.

“They call it morning sickness,” Fleur groaned, “They don’t warn you that it can happen at any time of day.”

“I’m sorry, Fleur,” Hermione said gently. She walked into the kitchen and poured Fleur a large glass of water.

Fleur padded behind her quietly. She was more subdued now.

Hermione handed the water to her, looking at her carefully.

Fleur looked so small and vulnerable. Hermione wasn’t sure she had ever seen the fiery Veela looking like this before.

“What?” Fleur asked defensively, narrowing her eyes.

“Are you okay, you know, staying here by yourself?” Hermione asked, “What if you fell and hurt yourself? Or choked on something?”

Fleur scoffed, seeming to regain some of her indignant energy.

“I’m pretty sure I know how to stay alive on my own, Hermione,” Fleur retorted, sipping at the water.

Hermione dropped the subject, not wanting to agitate the blonde.

“I didn’t know it was you that looked after me at Shell Cottage after Malfoy Manor,” Hermione said abruptly.

A number of emotions seemed to flit across Fleur’s voice in a split-second before she set her impassive facial expression.

“You never asked,” Fleur replied simply, turning around and walking over to her bed. She sat down on the edge of the bed, tucking one of her feet under her.

Hermione bit her lip. She wasn’t sure what else to say on the matter. She considered wildly for a moment asking Fleur if it meant she cared. But that was ridiculous.

“Have you been taking your vitamins and supplements?” Hermione asked.

“Oui,” Fleur replied neutrally.

Gods, getting a smile out of her was like getting blood out of a stone.

“I need to tell my parents,” Fleur informed Hermione.

Hermione felt a sheet of ice run down her back. She had met Apolline Delacour just once, at the Triwizard Tournament. She made Fleur’s ice princess routine look like a puppy in comparison. Hermione could already feel the sinking dread at Apolline finding out that Hermione had accidentally got her darling daughter pregnant.

“Do you need to do that already?” Hermione asked, trying to hide the anxiety in her voice, “I mean people generally don’t tell other people until past the three-month mark.”

“They’re my parents,” Fleur intoned, looking at Hermione like she was an idiot.

“Don’t you think travel is a little risky in your condition?” Hermione tried another tack. Fleur rolled her eyes.

“I’m one month in,” Fleur reminded haughtily, “I think I’ll be fine for a simple trip to France.”

“Right,” Hermione said awkwardly.

A silence fell over them for a moment.

“You seem to be walking far easier already,” Hermione commented. Fleur nodded primly.

“Oui, I feel much better,” Fleur replied.

“Do you need a hand with the anti-inflam—“

“Non,” Fleur interrupted quickly, a slight blush at her cheeks, “I’ll wait for Bill.”

Hermione felt a slight embarrassment rise within her at that.

_‘Gods, Hermione, try to sound less interested in getting your hands over her,’_ Hermione thought inwardly.

The truth was, Hermione hadn’t been able to get the experience of massaging Fleur out of her mind. The little whimper Fleur had held back as she bit her lip. The soft and toned feeling of Fleur’s thigh. It reminded her of the night she had had that body beneath her.

Hermione swallowed heavily, a heat rising in her stomach.

“W-Well,” Hermione managed to croak, before clearing her throat, “Do you need anything?”

“Non,” Fleur answered flatly. She was looking annoyed with Hermione again now.

“Oh okay…” Hermione said slowly. She really wasn’t making much headway with the blonde today, “Shall I come by again in a couple of days?”

“If you want,” Fleur sniffed.

Hermione sighed, going and slinging her satchel on her shoulder. She was heading to the door when she remembered.

“Oh yeah,” Hermione paused, fishing something out of her bag, “I got you this.”

She placed a couple of small books on the table beside the door.

“Reading helps me calm down about overwhelming situations,” Hermione explained to the blank-faced Fleur, “I got you some books on pregnancy.”

Fleur didn’t reply. Hermione waved at her and headed out the door.

Hermione’s head was full of thoughts as she headed back to Grimmauld Place. She couldn’t stop thinking about the one-night stand with Fleur or about massaging her thigh. She wasn’t a detective, but she was beginning to suspect more and more that she was interested in women.

Hermione was still frowning as she entered Grimmauld Place.

“Hey Hermione,” Harry greeted. He was sitting back on one of the couches, fiddling with his broom. It had been scuffed quite badly in his accident and he had been trying his best to bring it back to its usually meticulous state.

Ron was sitting beside him, chiming in with spots that Harry had missed.

“What’s up with you?” Ron asked, noticing Hermione’s expression.

Hermione sighed and threw herself down into the couch opposite the boys.

“I think I might like girls,” Hermione confessed.

The boys continued looking at her blankly.

“Well, yeah,” Ron replied, “You slept with Fleur.”

Harry shrugged.

“That is some compelling evidence,” Harry said, nodding at Ron.

Hermione was surprised at how relaxed a reaction the boys had had. It was if she had told them she like vanilla ice cream as well as chocolate ice cream. They couldn’t be more relaxed!

“Well, what do I do?” Hermione asked, a little stressed.

Ron shrugged.

“Date some girls?” Ron suggested.

“I don’t know how to do that!” Hermione exclaimed. Harry grinned.

“I think you’re overthinking this,” Harry chuckled, “How about you just try talking to a girl some time? Like, flirting?”

“Flirting?” Hermione echoed, intimidated, “How on Earth do I find a situation where I could do that?”

Ron smiled broadly, sitting up straighter in his seat.

“A _party_!” Ron grinned.

“Absolutely not!” Hermione insisted, “You _know_ what happened at the last one! Plus, I need to pass my classes more than ever now!”

Harry scoffed.

“As if you’re _not_ going to pass your classes!” Harry laughed.

“Plus, nobody is forcing you to drink,” Ron persuaded, “You could just sit on soda and pumpkin juice all night. No accidental pregnancies that way, huh?”

Hermione glared at him.


	6. Chapter 6

Hermione wasn’t sure how on Earth she had ended up agreeing to it, but she was at another party hosted at Grimmauld Place.

The boys had given her plenty of advice on how to flirt with women—most of which Hermione was sure was rubbish. In their enthusiasm, they had ended up excitedly roaming the party to flirt with women themselves.

Hermione would wager a galleon that neither of them would get very far following the advice they had given her.

On her own, Hermione surveyed the room. Harry and Ron had invited practically every woman they knew. They’d invited some men too, just so it wouldn’t be weird, but Hermione had a huge range of options.

She bit her lip, retreating into the kitchen to fetch herself another soda.

“What are you doing hiding out here?” Ginny asked slyly, sidling up next to her in the kitchen. She had Luna with her and looked like she had just been in the middle of discussing Hermione.

“Just getting a soda… Why?” Hermione asked suspiciously.

“A certain brother of mine may have said that you’re going to try flirting with _women_ tonight,” Ginny grinned.

Hermione swore.

“That Ronald!” Hermione growled, “When I get my hands on him…”

“Hey, it’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Luna interrupted gently.

Hermione quelled her temper, noticing that both Ginny and Luna did seem open. Neither of them were laughing and they appeared genuinely interested in talking to her about it.

“Well… Fine… I am,” Hermione said self-consciously, “I just don’t know what I’m bloody doing!”

“Well, you seduced Fleur Delacour,” Ginny replied. Hermione shrugged, looking away.

“That was different,” Hermione mumbled, blushing, “We didn’t really talk a huge amount before…”

“It’s okay, we get it,” Luna soothed.

“How about you pretend you’re trying to pick up one of us?” Ginny suggested, “Or, if you really want a challenge, both of us at the same time!”

Hermione felt mortified at that suggestion.

“No way,” Hermione shook her head. Ginny grinned.

“Okay, well, what kind of things are you thinking of saying?” Ginny asked, cocking her head to one side.

“Erm, ‘hello?’” Hermione said, her voice getting quieter as her embarrassment increased.

“Good start,” Luna nodded sagely, “Then what?”

Hermione felt the pressure building up and she shook her head.

“Bloody hell, guys! You’re psyching me out!” Hermione exclaimed.

Luna and Ginny looked apologetic.

“Sorry,” Ginny replied, “How about you just head out there and have a go with the first woman you see? No pressure.”

Hermione relaxed her shoulders a little.

“Fine.”

Her friends watched her expectantly until she sighed and walked back out to the living area. She was feeling self conscious again. There were so many cute and attractive women at Grimmauld Place. She felt frumpy with her curly hair, jeans and tee.

“You can do it,” Luna encouraged quietly, giving her a gentle push in the small of her back.

Hermione saw a brunette sitting alone on a couch. She went and sat beside the girl, wiping her sweaty hands on her jeans. She was so nervous.

“Erm, hello,” Hermione greeted.

The woman turned and looked at her, smiling slightly.

“Hi,” the woman replied.

Hermione felt a jolt of panic. She hadn’t thought about what to say once she got to this point.

_‘Think Hermione, THINK. What do people normally say?’_ Hermione thought in a panic. She was drawing a blank.

What had been a normal pause continued to extend. Hermione panicked further as the pause extended into awkwardness.

The woman looked at Hermione curiously.

Before Hermione could finally say something, the woman’s glanced across the room.

“Um… Are those your friends?” the woman asked.

Hermione followed her gaze and saw Ginny and Luna intensely watching them. Ginny was even chewing on her nails as if she were watching a Quidditch match.

“Oh God!” Hermione cursed, “I am so sorry… Er, bye!”

She got to her feet and hurriedly walked off, Ginny and Luna immediately rushed up to her.

“How did it go?” Ginny asked eagerly.

Hermione pulled them away so that at least they wouldn’t be within earshot or sight of the brunette.

“Terrible!” Hermione groaned, “I froze up and then she noticed you two staring us down like psychos.”

“Oh,” Luna replied, frowning.

“Our bad,” Ginny apologised, grimacing.

Hermione’s second and third attempts went just as poorly. Luna and Ginny managed to tone down their enthusiasm so as not to scare off the women, but Hermione just kept getting so nervous or flustered that she struggled to hold a conversation.

She supposed maybe it was the pressure of having her friends observing her. She knew Luna and Ginny were just excited to support her, but it was all a bit much.

Hermione waited until Luna and Ginny disappeared to the kitchen to refresh their drinks. As soon as the blonde and redhead were out of sight, Hermione ducked through the crowd and slipped upstairs.

She leaned against the wall of the hallway, sighing. She was already more relaxed.

“Sickle for your thoughts?”

Hermione opened her eyes. A pretty raven-haired girl was standing next to her, watching her intently.

“Oh, hi,” Hermione smiled shyly.

“You’re Hermione Granger, right?” the woman asked.

“Ah, yes, and you are?” Hermione asked, suddenly feeling a bit more confident.

“Amelie,” the woman replied, smiling coyly.

Hermione smiled back flirtatiously. She turned more fully to face Amelie, leaning her shoulder against the wall cockily.

“That’s a French name,” Hermione observed, “I like it.”

“Hmmn, the approval of the Golden Girl,” Amelie commented, “High praise indeed.”

Hermione smiled wider. It really seemed like this woman was flirting back.

_‘I knew I just had to get rid of Luna and Ginny and I would be fine!’_ Hermione thought to herself, inwardly fist pumping.

  
“So, how did I get so lucky that you ended up in my house?” Hermione asked, daring to be a bit bolder. She sidled a little closer to Amelie.

Amelie bit her lip, looking down shyly before looking back up at Hermione.

  
“Well, Hermione Granger…” Amelie started flirtily. She was suddenly cut off by someone coming to stand beside Hermione.

Hermione jumped as she realised it was Fleur.

“Fleur!” Hermione yelped, leaning back from Amelie as if she had been caught doing something wrong, “What are you doing here?!”

“I was not aware I was under house arrest,” Fleur replied, her cerulean eyes sparkling dangerously. She was wearing a form fitting dress that left little to the imagination.

“Who is this?” Amelie asked, still smiling, but a little confused.

“Fleur Delacour,” Fleur drawled, moving a hand to rest on her stomach, “The woman carrying Hermione’s unborn child.”

Hermione cringed, watching the shock cross Amelie’s face.

“Er, Fleur’s part-Veela,” Hermione explained weakly, “I didn’t know… About the needing to use protection thing…” 

“Oh…” Amelie said awkwardly. She straightened up, shooting Hermione a polite smile, “I might leave you two to it.”

Before Hermione could say anything, Amelie had hurriedly taken her leave.

Hermione turned to Fleur, annoyed.

“Why did you do that?!” Hermione hissed.

Fleur smiled waywardly.

“Do what?” she asked innocently, inspecting her nails.

Hermione opened her mouth to snap back, but thought better of it. She huffed sulkily before gathering her thoughts.

“What are you doing here?” Hermione asked, “You aren’t drinking, are you?”

“Non,” Fleur replied, frowning as she took offense, “I need to talk to you.”

Hermione glanced around. The hall was milling with people. She hardly needed more people hearing her dirty laundry.

“Fine,” Hermione sighed, “Come with me.”

She took Fleur by the arm, carefully leading her down to her bedroom. She made sure to steer Fleur so that no drunk people stumbled into her. As they entered her room, she carefully shut the door and cast a silencing spell.

Fleur was watching her closely. Her cerulean eyes were stormy again. Hermione wished she had developed the ability to read Fleur. Unfortunately, her facial expression was as impassive as ever.

Hermione blushed as she saw the bed in the middle of her room, remembering the last time she had taken Fleur with her to her bedroom.

Attempting to regain her composure, Hermione instead led Fleur to the small loveseat that sat in front of the fireplace in her room.

As they sat down, Hermione continued to try to push the memories of their one-night stand out of her mind.

“Erm, you had something you needed to talk to me about?” Hermione asked. She played with her wand for a moment, igniting the fireplace in front of them.

Fleur smiled, watching the fire, before turning her attentions to the brunette in front of her.

Hermione felt her stomach flip as she watched the way the light of the fire played on Fleur’s delicate features.

“I want to go to tell my parents about the pregnancy next week,” Fleur said. Hermione’s stomach flipped again, but less pleasantly.

“Okay,” Hermione conceded, “I get that. But… No offense… Why are you telling me? I thought you usually kept me out of things just to do with you.”

“It is to do with the baby, non?” Fleur said, edging closer to Hermione.

They were already sitting close, given it was a two-seater sofa. But now Fleur had moved so close that their thighs were right against each other. Hermione tried not to let it distract her.

“I want you to come with me,” Fleur added. Hermione almost choked on her own saliva.

“Sorry—what?!” Hermione yelped, “You want me to come with you while you tell your parents?!”

“Oui,” Fleur said simply with a shrug, “I need extra support.”

“What about Bill?” Hermione said, her mind whirring in a panic. Fleur frowned.

“Bill is not the other parent of this child,” Fleur said firmly. That hit Hermione right in her Gryffindor sense of duty. She sighed, holding back the loud groan she wanted to let out.

“Fine,” Hermione agreed.

“Bon,” Fleur smiled slightly. Hermione felt a small thrill at earning a rare smile from the temperamental blonde.

For a moment all Hermione could hear was the crackling of the fire. The silencing charm had blocked out all the noise of the party outside her room. As the silence stretched on, Hermione felt herself getting a little flustered at Fleur being so close to her. She hadn’t been this close to her since…

“Who was the woman you were speaking to?” Fleur asked suddenly.

“Oh, when you came up to me just now?” Hermione asked, trying not to look too closely at Fleur. She was insanely attractive. How had Hermione ever got her into bed? It was intimidating.

“Oui,” Fleur drawled, raising an eyebrow. Hermione swallowed.

“Ah, she’s called Amelie,” Hermione replied, “I just met her.”

“French name,” Fleur commented.

“Uh, yeah,” Hermione replied awkwardly, “She’s… She’s nice.”

“I have another problem,” Fleur said gently, looking down. The fire continued to crackle, causing shadows to dance across her features.

“What is it?” Hermione asked, alert now, “Let me know and I’ll help fix it.”

“The hormones,” Fleur said, moving closer still, “They’re driving me insane.”

“Err, yeah?” Hermione felt like she was about to break into a sweat. The closer Fleur got to her, the harder her heart was beating.

“Oui,” Fleur purred.

She slid fluidly onto Hermione’s lap and straddled her. She ran her hands up Hermione’s shoulders before resting them behind her neck.

Hermione’s stomach flipped violently. A heat was rising deep within her and her heart was pounding so hard she was sure Fleur could hear it.

“Uhh,” Hermione was lost for words. She willed her brain to work. 

“You said you would help me fix my problem,” Fleur said in a sultry tone, “My problem is the hormones are making my sex drive unbearable.”

Hermione choked on her saliva.

Fleur began to grow impatient, grinding a little in Hermione’s lap. This did nothing to help how flustered Hermione was, a blush blooming in her cheeks.

Fleur sighed, taking Hermione’s hands and placing them on her thighs.

Hermione had a feeling in her stomach like she was on a rollercoaster that was dropping from a height. She wanted nothing more than to take the invitation Fleur was so openly offering her.

But something was holding her back.

_‘Fleur is so outrageously beautiful,’_ Hermione thought inwardly, _‘What is she doing trying it on with me? There is no way this isn’t going to end with Fleur disappointed._ ’

_‘How could someone like me possibly satisfy someone like Fleur?’_

_‘What will Fleur think of all my scars now she’s sober?_

_‘Remember how Bill said she was too embarrassed to even confess to him who it was she had slept with?’_

The malicious thoughts were growing in numbers inside Hermione’s mind.

“Come _on,_ Hermione,” Fleur growled.

She grinded again in Hermione’s lap. Hermione’s arousal spiked even higher and she struggled internally.

_‘Fleur has been so dismissive with me up until now,’_ Hermione thought.

_‘She really sounded like she regretted the one-night stand.’_

_‘She’s just doing this now because of her crazy pregnancy hormones and desperation.’_

Hermione swallowed hard.

She was being overly self-conscious.

She should just go for it.

Why couldn’t she?

She slowly moved her hands up Fleur’s thighs, tensing as even more negative thoughts bombarded her.

“Merde!” Fleur snapped impatiently, “Hermione, just take me like you did the last time!”

If it were possible for Hermione to blush even deeper, she did. The blonde in her lap was beyond impatient and Hermione was messing it up.

_‘I’m choking,’_ Hermione cringed, _‘I am literally watching myself bomb this opportunity right now.’_

This made her negative mindset even worse. Of course she couldn’t even close the deal with Fleur when she was practically begging for it.

“Merde!” Fleur cursed, wrenching herself off Hermione.

“I—Fleur— Let me explain!“

Hermione wouldn’t even know how to put into words how she was feeling. She wanted Fleur. Gods, she wanted Fleur. She was just convinced that she would mess it up. Fleur was too intimidating. Too demanding.

“Non, I’m humiliated enough!” Fleur snapped, heading to the door, “If you didn’t want me, you could have just said!”

“Fleur!”

But Fleur swept out the door, slamming it behind her as hard as she could.

Hermione sat with her head in her hands for a while before getting to her feet and walking back out into the hallway. Ginny and Luna were leaning against the wall further down the hallway. Hermione sighed, approaching them.

“Fleur looked upset,” Luna commented, as soon as Hermione reached them.

She should have known Luna and Ginny would notice something was up. They were just too damn good at inserting themselves into her personal life.

“Correction, Luna,” Ginny chimed in, “Fleur looked upset _while leaving Hermione’s bedroom._ What happened, Hermione?”

Hermione groaned, running a hand down her face.

She painstakingly explained to the girls everything that had happened since she had left them downstairs. Predictably, they had a huge reaction.

“Hermione! You were doing so well! What happened?!” Ginny exclaimed, “How did you get so in your head?”

“I dunno,” Hermione said, ducking her head, embarrassed, “It wasn’t so scary with Amelie. But then Fleur came from nowhere and… It was like I’d just learned how to ride a bicycle with training wheels and someone came along and tried to get me to ride a full on motorcycle.”

“What’s a motorcycle?” Luna asked.

“Are you talking about riding Fleur?” Ginny asked with a sly smile, cocking her head to one side.

“Ugh, forget about it,” Hermione muttered, “I just freaked out. I don’t know what a woman like her would want with a woman like me. I’m surprised she even slept with me in the first place!”

“Hermione! You’re beautiful!” Luna exclaimed.

“Yeah, what the hell?” Ginny joined in, “I didn’t know you had such a poor view of yourself! You’re a total catch, girl! You’re incredibly good looking, you’re super intelligent, you’re loyal as hell… The list goes on!”

“I’m not…” Hermione muttered, looking down.

“Uh, excuse me,” a light voice interrupted, “I was wondering if I could talk to Hermione.”

Hermione looked up. Amelie had reappeared and approached the group.

Luna nudged her. Ginny leaned forward to whisper in her ear.

“See, even this girl can see what hot property you are,” Ginny whispered, “Now stop beating yourself up—you’re clit-blocking yourself for nothing.”

“Ginny!” Hermione hissed, shoving the redhead away. She blushed as she turned to Amelie, “Yes, let’s talk.”

She brushed past Luna and Ginny, following Amelie down the hallway. The raven-haired girl didn’t make her heart pound, but she was definitely cute. She also seemed genuinely interested in her—without being induced by crazy hormones—which was more than Hermione could say about Fleur.

Amelie was brushing against Hermione slightly as they walked.

“Do you mind if we talk somewhere more private?” Amelie asked. She had a sparkle in her eye that didn’t go unnoticed by Hermione.

Hermione nodded, ushering Amelie into her room.

The raven-haired girl went immediately to the bed, sitting down on the edge of it. Hermione grinned, following her.

Somehow it was a little easier when it wasn’t Fleur.

And yet, it wasn’t quite as exciting…

Hermione pushed the thought to one side as she sat down beside Amelie. She was determined not to psych herself out again. The raven-haired girl put a hand on her leg, beginning to run it up her thigh.

Hermione was in shock. She couldn’t believe that this pretty girl was actually interested in her. She wasn’t drunk, she wasn’t hopped up on Veela hormones… Amelie seemed genuinely into her.

“I- I…” Hermione trailed off.

Amelie leant forward, capturing her lips with hers.

Women’s lips were so much softer!

Hermione moaned in approval, deepening the kiss. Hands tangled in hair and roamed over bodies. They moved further up on the bed.

Amelie flipped herself on top of Hermione, beginning to disrobe.

Hermione hummed with approval, running her hands over each expanse of bare flesh that was exposed.

When she was done, Amelie moved to strip Hermione.

“Er, can we turn the lights off?” Hermione asked, self-conscious. Amelie nodded, getting up and turning the lights off.

Hermione slipped under the sheets, undressing. Amelie quietly slipped under the sheets to join her.

Hermione smiled as they melded together, touching getting more feverish.

Hermione didn’t have to think this time, it happened so fast and Amelie took the lead without prompting, reassuring her with kisses all the way.

Hermione got Amelie off first, with clumsy fingers learning the ropes at Amelie’s quiet instruction.

When she was gone Amelie moved to get her off too. She moved her hands between Hermione’s legs, rubbing her carefully and skilfully. Hermione cocked her head back, loving the feeling.

It didn’t quite feel as good as she remembered it feeling with Fleur, but it felt good.

_Fleur…_

Hermione came with a shudder.

“How was that, Golden Girl?” Amelie smirked, kissing Hermione’s cheek.

“Not bad,” Hermione smiled back.

“Would it be okay if I stayed over?” Amelie asked.

“Would it be rude if I asked you not to?” Hermione asked, smiling apologetically, “I have an early start tomorrow.”

“That’s fine,” Amelie said, kissing Hermione quickly before hopping out of bed.

Hermione was lying. She didn’t have an early start.

She liked Amelie. Amelie was cute. She _definitely_ enjoyed what they had just done. But it didn’t feel entirely right.

She couldn’t put her finger on it, but she had a feeling she would dwell over it during yet another night of restless sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

It was a week later and Hermione was lying on her back, staring at the ceiling.

She had watched the sunrise slowly over the course of the small hours of the morning. She still wasn’t getting much sleep, stressed about the baby situation.

She rested her hands behind her head, watching the shadows cast across the ceiling.

Ginny, Luna, Harry and Ron had been more than encouraging about her tryst with Amelie at the party. Almost too encouraging, in Hermione’s opinion.

Hermione pondered the situation. It had more than proved her attraction to women.

But she hadn’t been able to…

Hermione blushed, even though it was just her in the room.

She hadn’t been able to finish without thinking about Fleur.

Hermione had deep down always thought of herself as a romantic. Back at Hogwarts, what won her over with Viktor was his sweet nature and their talks in the library. The emotional connection she had to him was what really drove the physical attraction to the next level.

Perhaps she needed that emotional connection to truly enjoy the physical side of things.

But then that left her with Fleur.

The blonde was usually nothing but cold with her. She was stand-offish and most of their interactions over the years had either ended in arguments or eye rolling. How could Hermione have an emotional connection with her?

She hadn’t even known that Fleur was the one who nursed her back to health at Shell Cottage when they had slept together.

Could you have an emotional connection to someone and not realise it?

Hermione wished there were credible literature on the subject.

The sun had fully risen for the day and Hermione figured it was an appropriate enough time to get up.

She had taken time off her classes to accompany Fleur to France.

Getting up, Hermione could feel every ache and complaint in her body. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep going on without getting a decent night’s sleep.

She ruffled her hair, fishing out a clean pair of underwear and black jeans and pulling them on. She pulled on a plain white tee and her leather jacket. She groaned as she put on her socks and black Converse.

She’d packed a duffle bag the previous night, which she slung over her shoulder as she headed out the door.

Hermione didn’t take much more time getting ready. She simply ate an apple, brushed her teeth and she was gone.

* * *

Hermione met Fleur at the train station. France was too far away to Apparate or Floo, especially in Fleur’s state, so they were taking a train.

Hermione hadn’t seen Fleur since the blonde had tried to sleep with her. Fleur had been so angry and humiliated she had refused to see Hermione since then. She’d communicated solely via owl since then, informing Hermione of the dates of the trip and sending her the train tickets.

Fleur approached her on the platform, a duffle coat on over a loose dress. Instead of impossibly high heeled shoes, she was wearing heeled boots. Hermione supposed that was Fleur’s version of comfort. She only had a handbag over her shoulder, which Hermione assumed she had used an extendable charm on.

“Er, hi,” Hermione greeted.

Fleur just nodded coldly.

Hermione actually thought she got off easy. She had genuinely been afraid Fleur might immediately snap at her.

The train finally opened to oncoming passengers. Fleur and Hermione stepped in, side by side.

“It is a five-hour train ride to Marseille so I got us a private cabin,” Fleur said to Hermione stiffly, “Nothing fancy, but it means we won’t be crowded amongst other people.”

“Oh… Erm, thanks,” Hermione replied, thankful that Fleur was talking to her again.

Consulting her ticket, Hermione pushed through the throngs of people jostling for a space to sit, careful to usher Fleur through after her.

Spotting the cabin, Hermione pulled the door open, stepping back to allow Fleur in first.

Fleur smiled slightly at her. Hermione’s hopes raised that Fleur might forgive her.

The cabin was small but pleasant enough. It was two cushioned bench seats facing each other, with a table between them to lean on. Above them was a compartment for bags. Hermione politely took Fleur’s handbag from her and placed it into the overhead compartment. Fleur smiled again, lighter this time. Hermione wondered if she was just excited to be going home to France.

Hermione fished out a book from her own bag. She then reached down and picked up her duffle bag, hoisting it up over her head to jam it in the overhead compartment. She momentarily regretted her laziness of not using an extendable or shrinking her bag, but got it in finally.

Her shirt was riding up a bit and she looked down, self conscious. She caught Fleur gazing at the expanse of her midriff that was bared. Hermione blushed, shutting the compartment quickly before pulling her tee down.

Even though Fleur had seen her naked before, Hermione’s self-consciousness around anyone seeing her body remained.

Fleur settled into one seat in the cabin and Hermione took the one opposite her.

Hermione felt the heaviness of her exhaustion weighing on her, but the anxiety in the pit of her stomach was keeping her alert. It had been weeks now without a proper night’s sleep.

Fleur looked out the window, drumming her fingers on the table that separated them.

The train was beginning to take off.

Hermione decided she should at least address the elephant in the room before the trip commenced.

“I’m sorry about—“

“I don’t want to talk about that,” Fleur interrupted icily. Her deep azure eyes moved from looking out the window to glare at Hermione. “Ever.”

“Okay,” Hermione said sheepishly, leaning against the back of the seat.

Fleur kept glaring at her for a moment before slowly turning her gaze out the window again. The train was up to speed now and the scenery was blurring past.

Hermione could feel the tension between them. It was even worse now she had brought up the touchy subject of the last time they had seen each other. Hermione tried to think of a subject that might lighten the mood. She didn’t want to sit in tense silence for the entire trip.

“I’ve never been to the South of France,” Hermione ventured, “I have visited France with my parents before, but we stayed around Paris. What is it like?”

Fleur’s facial expression thawed and she turned her attention back to Hermione.

“It is beautiful,” Fleur smiled, “Marseille is a port city so you get the beauty of the Mediterranean Sea.”

“Can’t wait to see it,” Hermione smiled back. She felt her stomach flutter at Fleur’s genuine and beaming smile.

“And the food!” Fleur added excitedly, “The bouillabaisse, the fresh fish… It is unlike anything you can find in London. My parents have a beautiful house and grounds that overlooks the sea. Gabrielle should be there too… Do you remember her from the Triwizard Tournament?”

“Yes,” Hermione smiled, nodding, “She was quite small then, like eight?”

“Seven,” Fleur smiled fondly, “She is ten years’ younger than me.”

“So she would be…” Hermione thought for a moment. Fleur was a year and a half, maybe two years older than Hermione herself. That would put her at about twenty-one.

“Eleven,” Fleur grinned wider, “She thinks she is a _proper teenager_ now. It is very cute.”

“Is she still living with your parents, or just visiting them?” Hermione asked. It was beyond adorable how much Fleur lit up when talking about her younger sister.

“Visiting,” Fleur replied, “Now she is eleven, she boards at Beauxbatons. Maman is heartbroken about it. You know how parents can be about their children when they leave home.”

“Yeah,” Hermione said dully, her spirits suddenly falling again.

Azure eyes watched her curiously.

“Do you visit your parents often?” Fleur asked cautiously.

Hermione swallowed heavily.

“I can’t,” she replied, looking out the window at the blurry landscape.

Fleur didn’t move her gaze from her. It was so intense, Hermione felt like the blonde was almost looking inside her.

The silence extended.

Fleur wasn’t pushing her to say anything, but she was clearly waiting for Hermione to say something, with the way she was watching the brunette.

“When… When the war started, I knew that Harry’s high profile status would make Ron and I targets too,” Hermione sighed, “Ron’s family were safer because they’re wizards… Also because they’re pureblood. Whereas my parents… Muggles… They were quite helpless.”

“How did you keep them safe?” Fleur asked. Her full attention was on Hermione now.

“I…” Hermione’s voice broke. She cleared her throat and tried again, “I erased myself from their memories. The strongest spell I could do. It was the only way to guarantee that they wouldn’t seek me out or get into danger because of me.”

Hermione looked back at Fleur, and was startled to see tears streaming down the blonde’s face.

“So they don’t know who you are?” Fleur asked, “You can’t reverse it?”

“Unfortunately not,” Hermione said with a sad smile.

Fleur sniffled.

“They’ll never know that they’re going to be grandparents?” Fleur sobbed, “Fuck… Fucking hormones.”

Her crying increased and Hermione was alarmed. She really needed to learn what to do when someone was crying.

“Er, there, there,” Hermione soothed, leaning forward and patting Fleur’s carefully manicured hand.

Fleur wiped at her eyes with embarrassment.

Hermione always felt a terrible heaviness in her stomach when she spoke of her parents. But somehow it was eased slightly by trying to comfort Fleur and her hormones.

“I’m sorry,” Fleur said awkwardly.

“It’s fine,” Hermione assured.

She looked into Fleur’s eyes, surprised by the swirling emotion in the cerulean orbs. Realising she still had her hand on top of Fleur’s, Hermione blushed and removed it, her hands retreating back to her side of the table.

Fleur’s crying subsided and she frowned, still looking a little embarrassed. But it was soon replaced with a veneer of disinterest and she returned to gazing out the window.

Hermione sighed, at least relieved that Fleur didn’t appear to be mad at her anymore.

Hermione decided to read her book. 

A couple of hours or so passed as she contentedly read, feeling herself relax. Something about reading had always soothed her, even from a young age.

She was getting a little stiff sitting in the same position and broke her reading to stretch. Her eyes turned to the blonde across the cabin from her.

Fleur was leaning against the window, her eyes shut and her full lips slightly parted. She was breathing slowly and rhythmically, fast asleep.

Hermione felt her heart melt a little at the sight.

Asleep, Fleur looked so sweet. All the coldness was gone from her features. Hermione wondered if this is what Fleur looked like when she truly let her guard down.

Hermione took the luxury of properly looking at Fleur without the risk of setting off her temper. Her hair was loose and Hermione admired how silky smooth it looked, almost like it was liquid. It was a platinum-blonde so light it looked silvery. Hermione’s eyes travelled down, noticing the delicate protrusion of Fleur’s collarbones and the swell of her breasts. She felt a warmth fire deep within her, remembering the night that she had slept with the blonde…

There was a rapping at the cabin door and Fleur jolted, her eyes flickering open. She frowned as she regained her senses, iciness returning.

Hermione sighed with disappointment, getting up and opening the door.

A kindly old woman was outside the door with a food trolley.

“Mmmn, I’m starving,” Fleur commented, sitting up and placing a hand on her stomach.

“What do you want? My treat,” Hermione offered. Fleur looked so pretty holding her hand over her and Hermione’s unborn child.

Fleur selected some pumpkin cakes and a chocolate frog, happily getting into them before Hermione had even paid.

It made Hermione smile, seeing this more human side of Fleur.

She got herself a couple of pumpkin cakes and thanked the woman before turning back to her book.

Fleur made a small noise of pleasure, wolfing down another pumpkin cake.

For a wild moment, Hermione imagined that this would be what it would be like if she were in a relationship with Fleur. The two of them sitting contentedly together, Hermione making sure that Fleur and the baby were healthy. Getting Fleur all her favourite treats.

Hermione settled back into her book, a smile growing on her face.

* * *

Fleur was positively beaming as they arrived in front of the grand steps of the Delacour mansion.

The grounds were sprawling, lush with green grass, beautiful gardens and trees. They were overlooking an ocean and Hermione could see seagulls flying above.

Hermione got out of the carriage they’d taken from the station first, holding out a hand to carefully help Fleur out. Fleur smiled lightly.

A polite butler who had been waiting out on the steps now had their bags and marched up the steps ahead of them.

Hermione went to follow, but Fleur grabbed her arm.

“Hermione,” Fleur was talking quietly and seemed a little nervous, “I just want you to know… My mother…”

“Yes?” Hermione asked anxiously. Apolline Delacour was intimidating enough as it was. Hermione wondered what on Earth had Fleur looking antsy.

“She’s… Very… Veela,” Fleur managed awkwardly, “Just be prepared for that.”

“Erm, okay,” Hermione replied, very much confused.

Fleur leapt up the steps lightly ahead of her, apparently unwilling to say more on the matter. Hermione hurried to follow her up the steps.

As they entered the mansion, Hermione immediately came to a halt.

In a decadent entranceway, standing in front of a grand staircase, was the most impeccable looking family Hermione had ever seen.

The Delacours looked like something from a stock photo.

Apolline Delacour was standing with her hands clasped carefully in front of her, dressed head to toe in Muggle Chanel clothing. She barely looked older than Fleur, with her hair cut into a short platinum blonde bob. A necklace of expensive pearls was around her neck.

Beside her was a handsome man. He was dressed in a light grey suit with a pink shirt underneath. His hair was black but brushed with grey. He had a tidy beard and moustache that looked very well groomed.

In front of the two parents was a young girl, practically a mini-Fleur.

“Gabrielle!” Fleur exclaimed with joy.

Gabrielle ran forward, throwing her arms around Fleur and ranting excitedly in French.

“Gabrielle,” the man Hermione assumed was Fleur’s father interrupted gently.

Gabrielle released Fleur guiltily, shuffling and wriggling as she struggled to stay still and composed.

“Bon,” the man replied, stepping forward.

“Papa,” Fleur greeted warmly, kissing him on each cheek. He beamed and embraced her, but remained reserved.

Apolline swept forward then, pulling Fleur into a hug.

“Fleur,” she purred, kissing the cheek of her eldest daughter.

“Maman,” Fleur squeezed her mother tightly, “This is Hermione Granger. Hermione, this is my mother, Apolline, my father, Alexandre, and this little delight is Gabrielle.”

Gabrielle squirmed even more, careful not to misbehave under the careful eye of her father. Hermione could tell immediately that Fleur got her stoic nature from her father.

“Pleased to meet you all,” Hermione said politely, smiling as warmly as she could.

She was incredibly nervous, unsure on how she could win them over before Fleur dropped the bombshell—

“I’m pregnant and Hermione is the other parent,” Fleur said simply. Hermione felt the air whoosh out of her lungs. 

So soon?! They’d only just walked in the door!

Hermione almost vomited at the sudden abruptness of it all. All three of Fleur’s family members were staring at her.

“Magnifique!” Apolline beamed, clapping her hands together, “Oh, Fleur, you are going to make such a stunning mother!”

She swept forward, throwing Fleur into another tight embrace.

“I’m going to be an auntie?!” Gabrielle squealed excitedly, jumping up and down while looking between Hermione and Fleur.

The one person who did not react was Alexandre. He had reached to stroke at his beard and was watching Hermione carefully, an unreadable expression on his face. It appeared Fleur had inherited his poker face.

“Paul, Paul!”

Apolline had released Fleur and was now excitedly waving over the man that had taken their bags earlier.

“Oui, Madame?” he greeted.

“English, please, Paul,” Apolline directed in her heavy French accent, “We have a guest. Paul—could you please move Hermione’s things to Fleur’s room?”

“Non, Maman,” Fleur interjected. Apolline attempted to wave her off.

“Nonsense, Fleur,” Apolline retorted, “She got you pregnant, no need to be so prudish now.”

“Maman!” Fleur yelped, blushing with embarrassment, “It is not like that!”

Apolline snorted.

“You have always been so repressed, Fleur,” Apolline replied, “You do not need to be for your parents’ sake. I know what it is like, non? The Veela blood runs strong in your veins. You must be anxious for your woman to take you upstairs and—“

“Maman!!” Fleur shrieked.

Gabrielle was giggling and Alexandre was still impassively watching Hermione. His grey eyes were staring at Hermione intently.

“Hermione and I are _not_ together,” Fleur said emphatically.

Apolline cooled then, stepping back from Fleur and looking from her to Hermione with sudden disapproval. It reminded Hermione awfully of how Fleur would look when Hermione had suddenly upset her.

“This is _most_ improper!” Apolline said haughtily, drawing herself up to her full height.

“Maman, you are too traditional,” Fleur said defensively, pouting and crossing her arms across her chest.

“Let us discuss this over dinner,” Alexandre interrupted carefully. His accent was the least prominent of all the Delacours. He raised an arm, gesturing elegantly to a doorway.

Hermione followed the family, feeling thoroughly awkward. First Apolline talking about Fleur and her wanting to disappear upstairs to shag, then saying it is improper that they are not together? She was equal parts confused and embarrassed.

Fleur walked slowly, falling into step beside Hermione.

“It is a Veela thing,” Fleur said under her breath, “She expects that if someone gets me pregnant we should be together,”

“Oh, well not so different to the views of a traditional human parent,” Hermione commented.

“And making love frequently,” Fleur added with distaste.

“Oh,” Hermione choked, blushing.

“The Veela are very sexual,” Fleur half-explained, going silent again once they reached the table.

Alexandre sat at the head of the table. Gabrielle and Apolline sat on one side of the table and Fleur and Hermione across from them. A maid entered and began to lay cloth napkins on their laps.

“Err, thanks,” Hermione said uncomfortably. She wasn’t used to this level of service.

Apolline Delacour was tapping her manicured fingers agitatedly on her table across from Hermione. Gabrielle was watching Hermione with barely contained excitement.

“What are your intentions for our daughter then?” Apolline asked, raising an eyebrow. She truly was intimidating.

“I… I’m going to fully support Fleur and the baby,” Hermione explained, “I’m going to step up.”

“But, why are you not with her?” Apolline asked, narrowing her eyes.

“Maman,” Fleur interjected, “For the last time, it is not like that.”

“Then _what_ is it like, Fleur?” Apolline asked, turning her fiery gaze to her daughter, “I do not understand.”

“It was a one-night stand,” Fleur said dismissively, “We were both drunk. It won’t happen again.” 

If Hermione wasn’t mortified before, she sure was now. She couldn’t believe Fleur had just said that in front of her parents and her baby sister.

“Well, then,” Apolline huffed, looking icily across the table at Fleur and Hermione, “You will not even share a room with her while you are here?”

“Non!” Fleur insisted.

Her mother sighed, muttering darkly in French.

“She is saying ‘what would my mother say?’” Gabrielle explained helpfully to Hermione. Alexandre put a cautionary hand on the youngest Delacour’s shoulder, silencing the precocious child.

“Let us eat,” Alexandre intervened as the maid returned, placing food in front of them all, “We can discuss all this later.”

“Or never,” Fleur muttered, earning a glare from her mother.

“So, what do you do for a living, Hermione?” Alexandre asked, fixing his intense grey eyes on Hermione again.

Hermione fumbled nervously with the fork she had just picked up.

  
“I, uh, I’m a student for now,” Hermione said, ducking her head awkwardly.

“Hmmn, an academic woman, huh?” Alexandre queried, “What are you studying exactly?”

“Policy,” Hermione said, “I’ve always been interested in rules and bringing about change.”

“Ah, bon,” Alexandre replied, finally making a slight smile, “I myself have always been interested in policy. Have you ever thought of working in government?”

“Yes, of course!” Hermione said, relieved to finally get some kind of positive reaction from Fleur’s father, “Do you work in government?”

“Oui, now I do,” Alexandre replied, “I work as a magical ambassador for the Muggle Government. All very hush, hush though, given the Muggles-- as you would expect.”

“That’s so awesome!” Hermione replied, lighting up, “My parents, they’re Muggles—I’ve always dreamt of a job where I could straddle the two worlds.”

Alexandre smiled wider, before looking at Fleur and nodding. Fleur just rolled her eyes at her father.

Hermione felt like she was missing some kind of non-verbal communication between the two.

In the meantime, Apolline began to bicker with Fleur again. This time Hermione stayed well out of it, keeping her attentions on her plate and eating her dinner.

It was fresh fish and a light salad. Simple, but delicious.

As the heated argument switched into French, Hermione took the opportunity to observe the Delacours more closely at the table.

Alexandre was mostly reserved, speaking only rarely. While he was extremely hard to read, Hermione had the impression that overall he was a good man. He seemed quite strict with Gabrielle though, often telling her off for being too boisterous or silly. It appeared that he wanted his daughters to be as reserved as him.

Gabrielle was obviously a very lively girl. She seemed to be almost shimmering with energy, her bright eyes full of amusement and a smile often on her face. While she was practically a miniature Fleur, she seemed like what Fleur would be like if she were less cold. Gabrielle had a warmth and charm about her that Fleur seemed to have trained out of herself long ago.

Apolline was more complex. She had the haughtiness and coldness of both Alexandre and Fleur, but she also had a deep passion to her. She expressed herself freely and forcefully. Hermione was still intimidated by her, but had now realised that there was more to Apolline than she had realised from the brief sightings she had had of her in the past.

Dinner finished up and Alexandre put an end to the arguing, switching the conversation firmly back to English.

“I think you two should reconnect more in private,” he said to Apolline and Fleur, “How about you head upstairs with Gabrielle,”

As the women got up and began to leave the table, Alexandre turned to Hermione.

“Hermione, would you indulge in a drink with me in my study?” Alexandre asked. 

Hermione nodded, deciding that it would be less risky to share a drink with Alexandre than to gamble with Apolline or Fleur’s tempers.

Alexandre steered them down a hallway while the Delacour sisters and Apolline headed upstairs, still thoroughly engrossed in their discussion. Only Gabrielle waved goodnight to Hermione, a broad smile on her face.

Hermione followed Alexandre down the hallway and into a study. She gaped at the large bookshelves packed full of books. It was a large space almost entirely dedicated to housing books, rather than the rest of the house, which was focussed more on architecture and design.

Alexandre walked over to a large plain desk at the end of the room. He took two small tumblers and filled them with an amber liquid, turning back to Hermione and offering her one.

“Erm, thanks,” Hermione replied, “What is it?”

“Scotch,” Alexandre said with a smile, “Trust me, you’ll need that if you’re going to be looking after a pregnant Veela.”

Hermione took a sip. It burned her mouth and she grimaced, swallowing heavily.

“Err, I guess it takes some getting used to,” Hermione said, swirling her tumbler.

“Scotch or Veela?” Alexandre said, grinning, “Because they both do, to be honest. So, how do you really feel about my Fleur?”

“Uh, she’s great,” Hermione said uncomfortably, thrown off by the sudden question tossed at her.

Alexandre was watching her carefully, sipping at his own drink.

“She doesn’t cut you any slack, huh?” Alexandre surmised. Hermione wished she could read the man.

“Not at all,” Hermione admitted, with a small smile.

Alexandre cocked his head to one side, regarding Hermione with a careful gaze.

“My advice to you would be not to let her scare you off. Stand your ground,” he said quietly, “Apolline can also be very fiery, very _intimidating,_ if you know what I mean, non?”

“I get that,” Hermione said, nodding.

“Good,” Alexandre said, looking more relaxed, “Now, as a fellow academic and policy-lover, would you like to view my collection of books?”

“I would love nothing more,” Hermione said, grinning her head off excitedly.

Hermione headed up to her bedroom later that evening, her head swimming a little from the scotch.

Paul, the butler, was leading her up the stairway to show her the correct room in the vast mansion. He gestured at a door and nodded.

“Erm, thanks,” Hermione smiled.

Paul bowed before heading off.

Hermione opened the door, entering the room quietly. The lights were off and Hermione was too exhausted to bother to turn them on.

Instead, she stripped down, shedding her shoes and socks clumsily. She tossed her leather jacket on the floor too, followed by her jeans and tee. She hadn’t worn a bra that day and padded towards the shadowy shape of the bed wearing just her boyshort underwear.

She barely managed to pull the blankets back when she collapsed into the bed, her eyes flickering shut.

The scotch seemed to be aiding her difficulty with sleeping, as she began to drift off almost immediately.

* * *

Hermione awoke with a start.

It was still dark but her head was clear now. Hermione assumed she had only been asleep for a couple of hours or so. She realised she had a warmth wrapped around her.

“Fleur?”

“Hmmmn?” Fleur sleepily replied, “What are you doing in my room?”

Hermione jumped up in bed, startled.

“I asked Paul to show me to my room,” Hermione yelped.

Fleur was properly awake now, sitting up a little and rubbing her eyes tiredly.

“Ah, my mother did tell him to put our things in the same room earlier,” Fleur said, before her eyes adjusted to the dimness in the room, “Are you naked?”

Hermione blushed to the roots of her hair. She was glad for the darkness of the room.

“A-are you?” Hermione choked out, processing the softness and warmth of the blonde still entangled with her.

“Oui, I always sleep naked,” Fleur replied matter-of-factly, “You woke me up Hermione.”

“Erm, sorry,” Hermione mumbled, “I’ll just get up and get changed. Then I can find my room…”

“Non, do not be ridiculous, you can stay,” Fleur insisted, growing a little irritated, “Besides, I am _not_ getting up to show you where your room is.”

Hermione slid back down in the bed, trying to get settled again. She was highly aware that Fleur was still very much wrapped around her and naked.

She exhaled heavily.

It was dark, Fleur couldn’t see her scars or imperfections. Hermione felt herself relaxing.

“I’m actually a little excited to have a kid,” Hermione murmured aloud, “It’s definitely well ahead of schedule. But, I have always wanted children.”

She could feel Fleur smile against her collarbone. The blonde’s head was resting on her chest and Hermione was worried that she could hear her heart pounding hard.

Fleur’s arm was slung across Hermione’s waist, holding her tightly. It felt really _right._

“I always imagined having children too,” Fleur said quietly, “Pregnancy is just… a lot more full-on than I thought it would be.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Hermione murmured, “I’m going to help you through it all.”

Fleur murmured sleepily, nestling even closer in to Hermione.

Hermione could feel it as Fleur’s breathing slowed. As Fleur fell into slumber, Hermione’s own eyes began to feel heavy.

* * *

“Oh, yes!”

Hermione’s eyes snapped open again. It was morning now. She was still very much entangled with Fleur. She was lying on her back with an arm tightly around Fleur’s shoulders. Fleur’s head was resting on her bare chest, her arm still around Hermione’s waist. One of her legs was nestled between Hermione’s.

But that wasn’t what had Hermione startled.

At the foot of the bed was Apolline Delacour and the butler, Paul. Apolline was clapping her hands together excitedly.

Hermione, mortified that the sheets had slipped down enough to reveal their nudity, quickly pulled them up again. Fleur sat up, rubbing at her eyes.

“What on Earth are you on about, Maman?” Fleur grumbled, “Why are you in here so early?”

“Early? It is past eleven!” Apolline replied, “You were sleeping so late I came to check on you!”

Past eleven? Hermione hadn’t slept for as long as that since this entire pregnancy debacle had begun. She was shocked.

“Yes, well, Hermione woke me up in the middle of the night,” Fleur growled, moving herself away from the brunette in the bed.

“Ah, I see how it is,” Apolline purred, “Your father is the same way with me, you know. No-one can resist a Veela, non?”

“Maman!” Fleur exclaimed, horrified.

“Nothing to be ashamed of, Fleur,” Apolline said with a large smile, her eyes switching between Fleur and Hermione.

“There is nothing going on between us,” Fleur insisted, a little aggravated now.

“Mmn, sure, sure,” Apolline smiled, nodding at Paul, “A mother has intuition, Fleur. Besides, this,” Apolline gestured at the two of them in bed, “does not look platonic.”

“Maman,” Fleur growled, she glanced sideways at Hermione before switching to French to speak to her mother. They bickered a little, but Apolline could not stop smiling, apparently appeased by finding Hermione and Fleur in bed together.

Finally, thankfully, Apolline and Paul left, shutting the door behind them.

Fleur groaned, getting up from bed and stretching in the late morning light.

Hermione’s eyes ran down the incredible body of Fleur Delacour. Her back was toned and she had two little dimples at the base of her back. Her backside, well, Hermione was convinced that Fleur had the best ass in all of Europe.

Hermione felt self conscious in the light, pulling the sheets tightly up to her chin. Fleur flung the windows open, turning back to face Hermione.

Hermione’s eyebrows raised and her jaw slackened as she looked at Fleur. Her long platinum blonde hair was loose and tumbling down her shoulders. Her breasts were not overly large, but firm and full. Her toned stomach was beginning to show the pregnancy, a bump and curve to it. Fleur rested her hand on her stomach, on top of the small bump.

“Maman cannot be convinced,” Fleur sighed, frustrated, “But on the upside, at least suspecting we are together will keep her from nagging me.”

“Right,” Hermione said, dazed. She was staring at Fleur, unable to take her eyes off her.

“Okay, we should get up,” Fleur said impatiently, “I want to go out in Marseille.”

“Er, do you mind turning around while I get out of bed?” Hermione asked quietly.

Fleur paused while rummaging through her handbag, looking at Hermione with disbelief.

“Are you serious?” Fleur asked her flatly.

“Uhh,” Hermione couldn’t muster a response, she was too embarrassed. She knew that she was pushing Fleur’s fragile temper, but she couldn’t help how awkward she felt about her body.

Fleur huffed and pulled some clothes out of her bag, storming across the room and into an ensuite bathroom. She slammed the door, causing Hermione to jump.

Hermione leapt out of bed and over to her duffle bag in the corner of the room. She pulled out some clothes and hurriedly got dressed. Some blue jeans with ripped knees, a plain white tee and a plaid shirt over the top. She pulled on her black Converse, running her hand through her curls to detangle them.

The door to the bathroom opened and Fleur stepped out, dressed in a flowy skirt and a strappy singlet top. Her hair was impeccably groomed, running down her shoulders like silk.

She walked past Hermione wordlessly, still very much in a mood.

Hermione sighed. It was all part of the package with pregnant Fleur.


	8. Chapter 8

Hermione had a pleasant time. Apolline seemed strangely pleased to have her around now she thought she was sleeping with Fleur. Gabrielle seemed excited to get to know the parent of her impending niece or nephew. Alexandre was cordial, sharing the most in common with Hermione, but being most talkative in one on one encounters around the mansion. Hermione surmised he was a very introverted man, and handled himself better when not in a group setting.

Fleur remained moody, swinging between thawing with Hermione and getting upset with her. She showed her breathtaking spots around Marseille, but kept aloof. She was keeping Hermione at an arms’-length still.

Hermione spent the last two nights of their trip in her own room, back to her inability to sleep.

She wondered if the reason she had slept through on her first night was because of Fleur wrapped tightly around her.

It was their last morning in France and they were having breakfast outside on the vast lawn.

Fleur was pouting about the fact she couldn’t have any coffee, and her father was trying to placate her.

Hermione had finished her breakfast quickly, and now she was messing around on the lawn with Gabrielle. The blonde had really taken to her.

“Want to see something cool?” Hermione asked.

Gabrielle’s eyes lit up and Hermione grinned.

“Oui! What is it?” Gabrielle asked excitedly.

“Can you do… _this?!_ ” Hermione asked, before leaping forward. As she leapt forward, her body shifted and she transformed into a small cat.

“Mon Dieu! Maman! Papa! Did you see that?!” Gabrielle was beyond excited. Hermione knew younger witches and wizards loved to see an animagus.

She’d learnt how to do it soon after leaving Hogwarts, inspired by McGonagall, Sirius and even bloody Rita Skeeter. She’d regretted that she’d never learned until after the war—it would have been a fantastic way to get around undetected and escape capture.

She’d looked to Sirius and McGonagall when deciding her form. By picking domesticated animals, they’d been able to move around public places far easier than, say, a giant stag. Harry’s father certainly wouldn’t have been able to move around a train station in animagus form.

Her form was a small cat. She was grey and long haired.

“She’s so fluffy!” Gabrielle squealed, patting Hermione’s back.

Hermione chirruped, before rolling over and showing Gabrielle her fluffy tum. This made Gabrielle squeal even more.

She let Gabrielle rub her belly for a moment before straightening up and changing back. She was giggling a little at the wide-eyed look on Gabrielle’s face.

“Hermione, that was soooo cool! I wanna do that!” Gabrielle gushed as they walked back to join the others at the table.

“When you’re older you’ll be able to learn if you want,” Hermione smiled, “And you can pick any animal you want!”

“Any animal?! Maman, did you hear that!” Gabrielle was beyond excited.

Apolline smiled serenely, nudging Fleur. Fleur was watching Hermione with a mix of surprise and happiness on her face. It was rare to see her showing emotion freely, and Hermione couldn’t take her eyes off her.

“You are good with the young ones,” Alexandre said with a smile.

“Oh, am I?” Hermione asked, “I just figured anyone would find an animagi interesting!”

“And I do!” Gabrielle concurred, “Can you do it again?”

“Maybe in a bit,” Hermione offered, “I’m a little tired right now. Did you know I once knew a woman who picked a _beetle_ as their animagus form?”

“Ewww!” Gabrielle scrunched her face up with disgust, causing Hermione to giggle at her reaction.

“Tired?” Alexandre asked, “I am so sorry, Hermione. You should have told us if your room was too uncomfortable to sleep!”

“No, no, it’s not that…” Hermione said apologetically, “I think I’m just stressed, I haven’t been able to sleep well lately.”

Apolline grinned knowingly.

“Except for the night you stayed with our Fleur,” Apolline said, “You know, when I was pregnant, I could never sleep unless Alexandre there was right next to me. He had a business trip for a week during my pregnancy with Fleur. I barely got a couple of hours sleep each night during that week!”

Hermione felt embarrassed. Her night with Fleur cuddled around her had been the best night’s sleep since all this had happened.

“Is it a Veela thing?” Fleur asked, furrowing her brow. The joy that had been on her face before had been hidden carefully yet again.

“Perhaps,” Apolline shrugged, “I never thought to mention it to your Grandmere when I experienced it. We will have to ask her.”

The butler, Paul, approached the group, indicating that the carriage was ready to take Fleur and Hermione to the train station to leave.

Gabrielle hugged Fleur tightly, getting a little tearful. She came up and hugged Hermione next.

“Please tell me you’ll come visit again?” Gabrielle asked, looking up at Hermione.

Hermione glanced sideways at Fleur, who was impassive as always.

“Maybe,” Hermione replied, smiling at Gabrielle.

Apolline hugged Fleur and then Hermione, whispering in Hermione’s ear.

“You are very good for my daughter, I can feel it,” Apolline purred. Hermione blushed as Apolline pulled back from her ear, kissing her on each cheek.

Alexandre said his goodbyes next, pulling out a phone from his pocket as he reached Hermione.

“Hermione, we should exchange contact information,” Alexandre said quietly, “I have come to love this Muggle device through my work. I assume as a Muggleborn you would also have one?”

“Oh, erm, yeah,” Hermione said, fishing hers out of her pocket, “I only really use it to talk to old friends and Harry.”

“What is that?” Fleur interjected, watching the interaction with curiosity.

“A phone,” Alexandre said, holding up his smartphone, “They have changed a lot over the years, but this is the same kind of thing you used to see me talking on while you were growing up.”

“It means you can instantly talk to whoever you want,” Hermione explained, “As a voice conversation, through sending images, through sending messages… There are a bunch of different options.”

“You’re getting me one,” Fleur demanded.

“Oh, er, they’re really only useful if you know a bunch of other people with one too,” Hermione tried to explain. Fleur huffed and put her hand on her hip.

“Oui, you and Papa,” Fleur retorted agitatedly, “Don’t you think I need a way of reaching you about the baby?”

“Oh, good point,” Hermione conceded, “Fine, I’ll sort you out when we get back home.”

She caught Alexandre and Apolline watching her, both of them with amusement sparkling in their eyes.

* * *

Hermione stopped past and got Fleur a phone immediately on their return, spending some time teaching the impatient blonde how to use it.

When she finally got back to Grimmauld Place, she was tired but strangely happy.

After half a week with the Delacours and Fleur, she was feeling a little closer to the blonde. As much as anyone could be close to the cold and distant woman, anyway.

That and she felt she had made a good friend in Alexandre. He was a fellow bookworm and shared the same passions as her.

Her phone beeped and she pulled it out of her pocket.

**Alexandre:** _I trust you and Fleur made it home okay?_

Hermione smiled. It felt good having a kind of father figure checking in on her. The Weasleys and Hagrid made her feel the same way, but they didn’t know how to use Muggle tech like her real parents had.

**Hermione:** _We did. She didn’t want to wait a second to get her own phone, so expect a call or message from her soon._

Hermione smirked. Fleur was a high maintenance enough woman without having the ability to contact people 24/7. Hermione may have just created a monster.

“Hey, ‘Mione, how was the holiday with the baby-momma?” Ron asked, coming forward to hug her hello.

The scruffy-haired Harry appeared, also hugging Hermione.

“How was France?” Harry chimed in.

“It was really good, actually,” Hermione replied honestly, “I think I made some good progress with Fleur.”

“Supportive baby-daddy progress or _putting a ring on that_ progress?” Ron asked, wiggling his eyebrows ridiculously.

Hermione shoved him, yet couldn’t help but smile.

“Shut up, Ron,” Hermione muttered.

“You so like her,” Harry surmised, smirking.

“Yeah, well, she doesn’t really like me,” Hermione said, shrugging.

“Oh!” Ron exclaimed, “Speaking of girls, you got an owl while you were gone!”

Ron fished around in his pockets before producing a letter.

He handed it to Hermione, who noticed with dissatisfaction that he had got a smear of jam on the corner.

“Er, thanks,” Hermione replied. She opened it up.

It was a letter from Amelie. She was asking if Hermione wanted to go for a coffee sometime. But, thankfully, she didn’t seem to be putting much pressure on Hermione either way. Hermione smiled. She considered it, but she knew her complicated feelings towards Fleur meant it would be unfair to give Amelie any kind of impression of interest.

Yet Hermione couldn’t stop weighing it up throughout the rest of the day.

As she lay in bed that night, she mulled over giving Amelie a chance. She was very cute. She was very interested.

Hermione’s phone buzzed on her bedside table.

**Fleur:** _I want ice cream._

Hermione rolled her eyes as she saw the time. 3 in the morning. Giving Fleur a phone was definitely a mistake.

Her phone buzzed again.

**Fleur:** _And hot sauce._

Hermione scrunched her nose up.

**Hermione:** _Together?_

**Fleur:** _Good, you’re awake. Yes, together. Can you get it for me? I’m too tired to get up._

Hermione groaned. She supposed she wasn’t going to get any real sleep anyway. She may as well go and run an errand for the blonde.

**Fleur:** _Come on. You’re the one that got me pregnant. You owe me._

Hermione rolled her eyes again, getting up out of bed. She had to have got the most demanding woman in Europe pregnant.

She got changed quickly, checking her hair in the mirror before apparating.

In an instant, she was in a 24-hour store. She had no idea what ice cream Fleur liked, or what kind of ice cream would even go with hot sauce. She giggled to herself as she picked French vanilla ice cream. It seemed the most appropriate. She then grabbed a hot sauce, paid and apparated again.

She arrived outside Fleur’s door, stumbling a little. The lack of sleep was getting to her. Apparating too close together made her dizzy and faint.

She leant on the doorway as she regained her bearings, before knocking on Fleur’s door.

Almost instantly, the door flung open.

Fleur was in another silk gown, undone, and another revealing lingerie set. Hermione was beginning to get a little desensitised to Fleur’s openness. She didn’t even blush at the blonde’s attire this time.

Fleur snatched the ice cream and hot sauce from Hermione’s hands, grinning broadly and turning on her heel, walking into the studio without saying anything.

She’d left the door open, which Hermione took as an invitation to come in. She headed in, shutting the door behind her.

“Any reason you’re up this late?” Hermione asked.

Fleur had already scooped ice cream into a bowl and was now dousing it in hot sauce.

“Haven’t been able to sleep for more than an hour or so at a time since all this happened,” Fleur shrugged, “That’s why I kept dozing off on the train.”

“Oh,” Hermione replied, “Me too.”

Fleur looked thoughtful.

“It is curious,” Fleur commented, “We really should get Maman to ask my Grandmere.”

She then dived into the bowl of ice cream, closing her eyes and humming with pleasure.

Hermione frowned.

“Is that really any good?” Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Try it,” Fleur offered, holding the bowl out to Hermione, “Such a strange craving and yet it tastes so good.”

“Weird,” Hermione commented, shaking her head.

“Oh yeah, I called Papa,” Fleur said between spoonfuls, “He is eager for us to visit again. I would be interested in seeing my Grandmere if she is in town.”

“Oh, the Veela one?” Hermione asked, cocking her head to one side.

“Oui,” Fleur replied, putting the bowl down, “You are okay with Veela, oui?”

“I’m okay with you, aren’t I?” Hermione replied, a little confused.

Fleur snorted, rolling her eyes.

“I am merely a quarter blooded,” Fleur replied, “Are you okay in the proximity of full-blooded Veela? I’m not going to be impressed if you lust over my Grandmere.”

“Fleur!” Hermione yelped, disgusted, “I’m not going to lust over your bloody grandmother! For starters, I don’t tend to go for the elderly!”

“Elderly Veela don’t look like elderly humans,” Fleur responded, “You saw my mother, oui?”

“Erm, yes,” Hermione replied awkwardly. Apolline was indeed stunning as well as strangely youthful looking. She did look like she was only three or four years older than Fleur despite being her mother.

“Time does not ravage the Veela like it does humans,” Fleur explained, “I know you like women, so I worry about you embarrassing me when faced with a full blooded Veela thrall.”

“I’m not—Jesus, Fleur—I don’t even feel your thrall,” Hermione said defensively, embarrassed.

“My thrall is weak,” Fleur replied, “I am only a quarter-blooded.”

“Weak?! You have all eyes on you whenever you enter a room! The entire male population of Hogwarts was drooling over you during the Triwizard Tournament… And probably a bunch of the girls too!” Hermione exclaimed.

Fleur smirked.

“You would know,” Fleur replied, “But oui, my thrall is nothing compared to a full-blooded Veela.”

“I don’t know,” Hermione replied defensively, crossing her arms across her chest, “I told you, I don’t feel your thrall.”

“You really don’t?” Fleur asked, cocking her head to one side.

“I don’t,” Hermione confirmed.

“And yet you are into women,” Fleur said thoughtfully, considering the situation.

“Maybe you just aren’t as desirable as you think you are,” Hermione teased.

Fleur glared at her.

“Don’t _try_ me, Hermione!” Fleur said, putting her bowl down on the table, “You are the cause of my body being ruined!”

“It isn’t ruined,” Hermione placated. She felt a bit bad for teasing Fleur when she was so hormonal, “You are still beautiful.”

Fleur’s frown faded almost immediately. Her eyes locked with Hermione’s and Hermione could feel a kind of simmering tension between them. Hermione felt a pleasant pang deep in her stomach.

“Erm, I should probably head back home,” Hermione said awkwardly, rubbing the back of her neck, “It’s late.”

“Are you sure?” Fleur asked.

“Y-yeah,” Hermione replied, already heading to the door, “Unless you need anything else?”

“Non,” Fleur replied.

Hermione wasn’t looking at her, focussing hard on the door instead. She was embarrassed and self-conscious of these feelings that kept bubbling up with Fleur.

“Good night, Fleur,” Hermione said, opening the door, “You know how to reach me if you need anything else.”

“Good night, Hermione.”


	9. Chapter 9

Hermione got up, rubbing her eyes. She was exhausted.

Now on top of everything else she was stressed about _Fleur_ not sleeping, too. It couldn’t be good for the baby.

As luck would have it, she had a check up with Fleur that day at the Healer’s. She was going to pick Fleur up from her flat and take her.

Inwardly, Hermione was hoping she could spend some quality time with Fleur. She wanted to care more for Fleur than the blonde would let her. Damn stubborn Veela.

It wasn’t just the pregnancy either. Thoughts of their one-night stand, massaging her injured thigh, and sleeping with her cuddled up next to her were swirling in her head almost constantly. She had to admit it. She _liked_ Fleur on some level. It was just a shame that the blonde didn’t like her back.

Hermione went downstairs, surprised to see Ginny standing in the living room tossing a Quaffle up and down.

“What are you doing here?” Hermione asked.

“Waiting for Harry and Ron so we can head down to the pitch and toss this bad boy around,” Ginny commented, throwing the Quaffle up in the air again, “Jeez, you look tired, ‘Mione. Thought the lack of sleep part came _after_ the baby was born?”

“Yeah, I am feeling pretty rundown,” Hermione admitted, “Probably the stress.”

“You know what would take your mind off it?” Ginny grinned, still tossing the Quaffle.

“I’m not going to play Quidditch with you,” Hermione replied flatly. They’d all known her for _years_ and yet Harry, Ron and Ginny still seemed to believe that they could win her over with Quidditch. Hermione never ceased to be surprised by their persistence.

“Not that,” Ginny said, grinning further, “A date! Maybe with a certain dark-haired girl that stayed over with you not too long ago? Ron said she owled you.”

“Godammit, Ron!” Hermione cursed, “I swear he is such a gossip.”

“Well lucky he is!” Ginny said, catching the Quaffle and stepping forward, “Otherwise I wouldn’t be able to tell you right now that you totally need to go on a date with Amelie!”

“No,” Hermione shook her head, “I just… It isn’t the right time.”

Ginny snorted.

“It’s never the right time when it comes to your love life,” Ginny noted.

She tossed the Quaffle up in the air again and Hermione pushed it off-course, mildly irritated with the redhead.

Undeterred, Ginny dove forward, catching the Quaffle athletically before tidily rolling into a kneeling position.

Hermione had to hand it to her, Ginny was very gifted when it came to sports. Hermione often thought that Ginny should try out for one of the professional Quidditch teams.

Ginny stood up again, brushing off her bare knees with one hand and resting the Quaffle under one arm.

She was dressed for playing sports, wearing some short athletic shorts and a tank top. Her pale limbs were bare and her hair was tied up in a ponytail.

“I don’t know what’s holding you back,” Ginny commented, “She’s good looking and likes you back. At least worth a single date to see if there’s a connection there.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Hermione said non-committally.

Truth was, she was far too focused on Fleur at the moment. She knew it was silly, but a part of her didn’t want to go on a date with another woman if there was even the slightest of chances something could happen with Fleur.

Hermione shook her head. It was ridiculous.

Harry and Ron thumped down the stairs with all the grace of a horde of rhinos. They had their broomsticks over their shoulders and large grins on their faces. Both were dressed in some shorts and tees. Harry’s hair was already in disarray even though they hadn’t even got outside yet.

“Wanna come, ‘Mione?” Ron asked, grinning boyishly.

Hermione scoffed.

“You know I don’t,” Hermione replied.

Ron shrugged.

“Suit yourself,” he replied, “Okay guys, we should probably head out if we’re going to meet the others on time.”

Ginny picked up her broomstick from the floor, following the boys as they headed for the door. As she passed Hermione, she nudged her and leaned in.

“Consider it, Hermione,” Ginny murmured, “Nothing bad can happen from just giving it a go.”

* * *

Hermione was walking down Diagon Alley. It was still some time before she was due to meet Fleur but she felt like looking in some book shops. She had just left Obscurus Books when she stopped outside the window of Twilfitt and Tatting’s.

Usually she swept past the high end shop without a second glance. But today her attention was grabbed by the display of baby clothes in the window. Little booties and onesies made her heart swell. Soon her and Fleur would be able to shop for baby clothes together.

Hermione smiled to herself, turning away from the shop. She was beyond excited to be a parent the more she got used to the idea.

Hermione continued walking down Diagon Alley on her way to check out the Second-Hand Bookstore. Her eyes widened slightly as she saw a shimmering mane of platinum blonde hair further down the street. Fleur Delacour was sitting at an outdoor café at an upmarket café, sipping on a water and talking animatedly with Bill Weasley.

It was strange seeing Fleur so open, even from a distance. The extremely reserved woman never spoke freely with anyone yet seemed so at ease with her best friend.

Hermione wondered if she could get close enough to hear what Fleur was like when she had her infamous guard down.

_‘No, that would be bad,’_ Hermione told herself, _‘You’re a Gryffindor, not a Slytherin.’_

Bill was laughing raucously at something Fleur was saying. Hermione’s curiosity skyrocketed.

_‘I’m sure even Godric Gryffindor had his moments of weakness,’_ Hermione reasoned, transforming into her animagus form.

She padded along the cobbled streets of Diagon Alley in cat form, cautious. She knew Fleur knew what her animagus looked like now, so she couldn’t be spotted by the blonde.

Hermione weaved her way through the legs of pedestrians, slinking her way closer to the café and its outdoor area. There was a pretty garden bed right beside Fleur and Bill and Hermione leapt athletically into it, scooting underneath a bushy plant and out of sight. Perfect.

“So how was seeing your folks back in France, anyway?” Bill asked, “We never really talked about how they took the news.”

“Oh God, my mother was just as I expected,” Fleur groaned, “So judgmental and trying to push me into doing what she thinks is right. Gabrielle and Papa were fine though. I think the most interesting reaction will be my Grandmere though. I can never quite predict what she will think about anything.”

Hermione began to feel incredibly guilty about eavesdropping. It was a poor and impulsive decision. She had just about decided to scurry out from her hiding place and head on her way when Bill asked a question that piqued her interest.

“What did they think about Hermione?” Bill asked.

Hermione, against her better judgment, remained hidden. 

“Oh, absolutely typical!” Fleur commented, sounding like she was rolling her eyes, “They all loved her. Maman and Gabrielle can’t stop talking about her.”

Hermione was quietly pleased about that. She had known that Alexandre had liked her, but it was good to have confirmation that the others in Fleur’s family liked her too.

“Well, well,” Bill chortled, “A baby and taking her home to meet the parents. Things are moving along very quickly with you and Ms Granger!”

“Oh, stop it, Bill!” Fleur huffed, “You know I don’t like when you joke about that.”

Hermione’s heart sank.

“You could do worse,” Bill replied, “Or could you?”

Fleur snorted.

“Bill Weasley, you can be so bitchy, has anyone ever told you that?” Fleur responded with a laugh.

“You, plenty of times, love,” Bill replied, “But I mean, I’m still in shock! Hermione Granger? She looks like she doesn’t even brush her hair. You’re gorgeous darling, what on Earth were you doing with a girl that’s never even heard of a manicure?”

Hermione felt like she had been punched in the stomach. She knew that Bill could be a little bitchy from talking to Ginny and Ron, but she never knew the handsome redhead had harboured such judgmental views about her.

“I don’t know, Bill,” Fleur answered, “But your constant teasing doesn’t make me feel any better about it.”

Hermione felt numb. It was devastating to hear Fleur sound truly embarrassed about what had happened between them.

She clambered out of the garden bed, scurrying off through the crowded streets of Diagon Alley.

_‘I guess it’s true… Curiosity really does kill the cat,’_ Hermione thought to herself humourlessly.

* * *

Hermione was sitting in the waiting room of the Healer’s office when Fleur glided in, elegant as always.

Hermione felt her chest ache as Fleur’s eyes sought her out in the waiting room impassively. Spotting her, Fleur frowned lightly and came to sit beside Hermione. 

“You didn’t wait for me outside,” Fleur commented.

“Sorry,” Hermione replied neutrally. She didn’t know what to say to the blonde. She still felt like she had been punched in the stomach.

It was her own fault for eavesdropping.

“Sorry?!” Fleur repeated icily, “I stood outside for fifteen minutes waiting for you.”

“I said I was sorry,” Hermione replied, a bite to her voice.

Fleur narrowed her eyes, looking like she was going to argue, but Dr Fantail called them in.

  
Hermione leant against a wall during the check-up, her arms folded tightly across her chest. She could feel Fleur’s curious eyes on her.

Dr Fantail was switching intermittently between casting small spells and physically checking Fleur. All the while he was scribbling frantically on his clipboard as usual.

“You seem awfully rundown,” Fantail commented.

“I’m not sleeping well,” Fleur replied.

Hermione couldn’t help but feel a pang of concern, her eyes betraying her and returning to watch the blonde.

“There’s nothing I can think of to prescribe you that wouldn’t hurt the baby,” Fantail replied, frowning and chewing on the end of his quill.

“Merde,” Fleur cursed, “So what do I do?”

“Practice good sleep hygiene, exercise, try to do some meditation before bed,” Fantail said with an apologetic smile, “Hopefully you will get past it soon.”

Hermione bit her lip. There had to be something they could do. 

“Book your next appointment at reception,” Dr Fantail advised, “And make your primary focus figuring out how to get some rest.”

On their way out, Hermione avoided looking at Fleur. She was feeling too conflicted. She was torn by hurt over what she had overheard and concern over Fleur’s state of exhaustion.

Fleur made the arrangements for the next appointment and walked outside with Hermione before turning to her.

“Is there something going on?” Fleur asked carefully.

Hermione shook her head, her chest still feeling heavy.

“No, nothing,” Hermione replied, swallowing heavily, “But if you need anything, anything at all—please come to me immediately. I’m always interruptible. I’m worried about you and the baby.”

Fleur looked a little stunned by Hermione.

“Okay, Hermione,” Fleur said, nodding.

Hermione couldn’t bring herself to say anything else. She averted her eyes from Fleur, looking at the ground. She was still so hurt by what she had overheard.

“I’ll see you around,” Hermione mumbled, heading off without waiting for a response.

* * *

Hermione was tapping her fingers on a table nervously. It was the very next day and she was meeting Amelie at a small cafe. She had so far dodged two phonecalls from Fleur and endured a restless night feeling dreadful about what she had overheard.

She wished she had a time turner and could go back and prevent herself from eavesdropping on Bill and Fleur. But it was too late and now she was burdened with the knowledge that Fleur would be too embarrassed to ever consider her romantically.

Her phone buzzed and she glanced at the screen.

**Fleur:** _Will you get me some pumpkin cakes? I’m craving them so badly._

**Hermione:** _Can’t._

Hermione knew she was being cold but she couldn’t help how hurt her feelings were.

Her phone buzzed again. Hermione tried to ignore it but she gave into her curiosity and tapped on the notification.

**Fleur:** _Why not?_ _L_

Hermione felt her temper flare at the blonde’s sass.

**Hermione:** _Because I’m on a date._

Fleur had been quick to respond to Hermione’s first reply, but didn’t respond to that message. Hermione sighed, pocketing her phone.

The bell above the café door jingled and Hermione plastered a smile on as Amelie approached the table, sitting down eagerly.

“Hey, Golden Girl,” Amelie grinned flirtatiously.

“Hey,” Hermione said, still smiling.

Amelie’s smile faltered.

“Okay, what’s up?” Amelie asked, cocking her head to one side. Her grey eyes observed Hermione with concern.

“Nothing,” Hermione shrugged, maintaining her grin.

Amelie snorted.

“Come on, that is the fakest smile I’ve ever seen,” Amelie commented, “Something is bothering you.”

“I don’t know about that,” Hermione said, looking down.

Amelie watched her for a moment, looking like she was weighing something up. Her eyes registered realisation and she sighed heavily. Hermione wished Fleur was as easy to read.

“Ah, it’s a girl, isn’t it?” Amelie surmised, “I’m disappointed, for sure. But that’s okay. I kind of expected that someone else would have snagged the Golden Girl’s heart by now.”

“There’s nothing going on,” Hermione replied, looking uncomfortable.

“But you want there to be something going on,” Amelie added.

Hermione looked increasingly uncomfortable.

“It doesn’t matter, she doesn’t like me at all,” Hermione said glumly.

Amelie sighed again.

“Hermione… I get the feeling that maybe you don’t have too much experience dating women,” Amelie said, raising an eyebrow.

Hermione blushed a little, shaking her head.

“Not… Not really…” Hermione mumbled, embarrassed.

Amelie smiled broadly.

“Merlin you are adorable,” Amelie commented, “Hermione, girls don’t always say what they mean, you know.”

“Even to their best friends?” Hermione asked, looking up hopefully.

Amelie sighed, grinning at how cute the tough war hero was.

“Sometimes, Hermione,” Amelie replied, “Girls can be complex! You’ve gotta work out how they feel because they won’t always just come out and say what they really think.”

Hermione frowned at that.

“How is anyone supposed to work that out?” Hermione said, furrowing her brow, “There’s hardly reliable literature on the subject or a simple formula to work it out.”

Amelie giggled at that.

“You really are a total bookworm,” Amelie giggled, “It’s cute.”

Hermione blushed, looking down.

“Erm…”

“Okay, you’ve also got to work on your self-confidence too!” Amelie exclaimed, “You’re practically England’s most eligible bachelorette and you get all flustered any time I mention how cute you are!”

“Well, how am I supposed to fix that?” Hermione mumbled defensively.

“Hermione Granger,” Amelie said, her grey eyes gleaming with excitement, “We may not be destined to be girlfriends, but I seriously think fate brought us together to be friends.”

  
She leaned forward on the table, propping her face up with her hands.

“I’d like that,” Hermione said, smiling. She did really like Amelie, even if she didn’t make her heart skip a beat.

“Great,” Amelie said with a teasing smile, “Because now I have a bunch more unsolicited advice for you…”

* * *

Hermione lay on her back in bed that night.

She couldn’t sleep again, but had plenty of advice from Amelie to mull over.

It had at least taken the sting out of what she had overheard between Fleur and Bill.

It would be so easy for Fleur to cut her out of her life. Fleur can’t be that repulsed by her if she still willingly invited her to run errands for her and bring her snacks.

As if on cue, Hermione’s phone buzzed on her bedside table.

**Fleur:** _Do you think we’re having a boy or a girl?_

****

**Hermione:** _Fleur, it’s 2am. Plus, we’re both women. We don’t have the chromosome to have a boy, it’s biologically impossible._

**Fleur:** _It is like you’ve never heard of magic…_

Hermione snorted, smiling like a fool in the darkness of her room. She could practically hear Fleur’s haughty, teasing tone in the text.

She bit her lip, trying to think of a reply. Before she could send one, Fleur sent a second message in a row.

**Fleur:** _How was your date?_

**Hermione:** _It was good._

**Fleur:** _Only good? Well, I guess not many women can compare to me… :P_

Hermione giggled at that. Her stomach flipped at Fleur being playful with her, even if it was in her usual egotistical way.

**Hermione:** _You talk a big game, Delacour._

Hermione felt a little braver via message. She allowed herself to play back, wondering how the blonde would respond. She hoped she wouldn’t close off again.

**Fleur:** _You can talk a big game when you’ve got the ability to back it up like I do._

Hermione found herself getting a little hot under the collar. Fleur was an attractive woman, and in the right circumstances, her ego made her even hotter. 

She bit her lip. Tempted to push her luck. She thought about her conversation with Amelie earlier in the day around showing a bit more confidence and more actively investigating others’ feelings.

Squirming a little, Hermione decided to play with fire.

 **Hermione:** _Prove it._

Hermione pulled her sheet over her head and scrunched her eyes shut, momentarily cringing at her own boldness.

She didn’t get a response for a moment or two and briefly began to panic. She wondered wildly if she had freaked Fleur out or upset her.

Her phone buzzed again and Hermione resurfaced from under the covers, almost dropping the phone in her eagerness to open the message. She clumsily unlocked her phone and tapped on the notification.

An image.

Her breath caught in her throat and she felt a rough swoop of warmth through her as she took in the image.

Fleur had taken a selfie, held up above her as she knelt on her bed provocatively. She was nude, but artfully positioned so that Hermione couldn’t see anything. An arm was placed to teasingly just hide her nipples and her hair fell in a way that obscured anything South of the border from being seen.

Hermione had seen far more in person. But the unexpectedness and the look in Fleur’s eyes in the photo drove Hermione wild. She felt aroused and teased in a way that she hadn’t felt before. Fleur’s bright blue eyes shone with a playful teasing in the photo that made Hermione want nothing more than to rush over to her apartment and pin her down on the bed.

Hermione thanked whatever deity had led to Fleur discovering how to take a selfie on a Muggle phone.

**Fleur:** _I take it from the stunned silence that I proved my point?_

Hermione grinned at the message. She could imagine Fleur lying back in bed smirking. Hermione shook her head. She had to give credit where credit was due.

**Hermione:** _Point proven. You certainly can back up that ego._

Fleur didn’t reply again, presumably otherwise distracted or having dozed off. Hermione lay awake, pondering what the flirtation meant with Fleur. Was she just teasing her sexually because she was bored? Flirting because her hormones were haywire again? Or…?

Hermione bit her lip. She was too aroused to even over-analyse like she usually did.

Hermione scrolled back to the nude Fleur had sent her, allowing her hand to run down her stomach and slip underneath the waistband of her boxers. She was uncomfortably wet and aching for relief. She might not be able to have Fleur, but her imagination and her hand were the next best thing.

* * *

A week passed in relative monotony. Hermione was back in her classes, taking diligent notes and studying every spare moment she had.

She found she had little time to catch up with friends outside of that, but she still made sure to make time for Ginny, Harry, Ron, Luna and Amelie.

She still wasn’t sleeping well. Often at night Fleur would message her and they would talk for a while. They hadn’t flirted aggressively again since that first time, but some of their interactions did border on playful flirtation.

Fleur hadn’t requested any snacks or meet ups with Hermione since the night of the nude photo either.

Hermione wondered what it would mean for their latest check-up.

She was walking down to the Healer’s office now, stopping to check her hair nervously in the windows of Flourish and Blotts.

She felt her heart skip a beat as she saw Fleur leaning against the outside of the Healers’ office, her face impassive as always. She was wearing a cable knit sweater and some faded jeans, some plain white sneakers on her feet. Her hair was tied up in a loose bun on the top of her head.

She looked so casual for her that it gave her a softness Hermione wasn’t used to. The cable knit sweater was loose but Hermione could still see the slight bump of Fleur’s belly.

“Hey,” Hermione greeted, approaching Fleur. Fleur looked up and her eyes seemed to light up. Or maybe Hermione imagined it.

“Salut,” Fleur greeted, her face betraying nothing, “Shall we head in?”

Her tone was at least warmer than Hermione usually encountered with Fleur.

Fleur took Hermione’s elbow as they headed in. Hermione suppressed a smile. Fleur could just be trying to keep her balance, after all. 

They didn’t have to wait long before Dr Fantail brought them in. Fleur patiently sat as Fantail began his diligent checks.

“You’re still not getting sleep, are you?” Fantail asked, “Your face doesn’t show it, but your body seemed to be displaying signs of exhaustion.”

“Veela blood stops me from looking tired and haggard,” Fleur sniffed proudly, looking to one side. She seemed defensive and cagey. Hermione wondered if the blonde was beating herself up for not being able to sleep.

“I’m seriously worried about your lack of rest,” Fantail said gravely.

Fleur continued to look away.

“Erm, any other tests to run?” Hermione interrupted, hoping to spare Fleur further guilt.

Fantail looked up at Hermione, a little surprised.

“Oh-Erm, yes! We could find out the sex of the baby if you like?” Fantail offered.

This seemed to cheer Fleur up and she shot Hermione a coy smile.

“Yes please,” Hermione replied eagerly. It would cheer Fleur up and be an exciting milestone for them.

Fantail clapped his hands together before lifting his wand.

“It is a simple enough spell,” Fantail said, pushing Fleur’s shirt up enough to show her belly, “And now you are two months along, we are able to use it!”

He did a complex twist and wave of his wand, barely touching the skin of Fleur’s stomach. There was a slight crackling noise, which startled Hermione, before a silver line snaked its way over Fleur’s stomach. It did a curious loop before disappearing.

“Erm… What does that mean?” Hermione asked, stepping close to them. Fleur reached out and took Hermione’s hand, holding it tightly.

Hermione looked at Fleur, startled by the intensity in her azure eyes.

“You’re having a little boy,” Dr Fantail said, heading over to his desk to scribble on his clipboard, “Congratulations!”

Fleur looped her arms around Hermione’s neck and pulled her in for a tight hug.

“A little baby boy!” Fleur murmured happily near Hermione’s ear. Hermione grinned so wide she felt like her face might split.

“We’re having a son, Fleur!” Hermione chimed in, ecstatic.

Suddenly the whole situation was even more real.

“I hate to spoil such a heart-warming moment,” Fantail cut in, “But we really do need to talk about this exhaustion. I’m seriously concerned. If you can’t turn it around within the next week, we’re going to need to take you in to St Mungo’s for more stringent testing and observation. Your body is getting so rundown I have concerns for the baby.”

“No, we can’t do that! We can turn it around!” Hermione gasped. She was horrified at the thought of Fleur sitting in a bleak hospital bed hooked up to a number of machines and pumped full of potions. She was even more horrified at the thought of the baby being harmed.

“Let us see my Grandmere first,” Fleur requested firmly, “It could very well be a Veela thing. I doubt St Mungo’s would have an answer for that.”

“Very well, but don’t delay,” Fantail said, setting his mouth into a firm line, “I’m serious about this.”

“I’ll book us tickets as soon as we leave here,” Hermione promised, “We’ll head off as soon as we can.”

Fleur smiled at her, grateful. Fantail seemed appeased, scribbling some more on his clipboard and nodding.

“Don’t stay away long,” Fantail advised, “I want you back here within a week so I can check your progress on tackling this exhaustion.”

“We will be back,” Fleur promised, “And well-rested.”


	10. Chapter 10

Hermione was biting her lip.

  
She was sitting beside Fleur in a carriage as they pulled up to the Delacour Mansion.

Things had moved extremely fast since their check-up with the Healer. They had stopped off for Hermione to arrange train tickets while Fleur rang her parents to organise things in France.

They’d gone their separate ways in the late afternoon. Hermione had dinner with Harry, Ron, Ginny and Luna and filled them in on her plans. The group had thankfully withheld any teasing, instead expressing concerns for Fleur, Hermione and their son.

Hermione had suffered another restless night before catching an early morning train with Fleur. Now she was a bundle of nerves as she finally let her mind appreciate the fact that she was about to meet Fleur’s grandmother.

The butler, Paul, met them out front again. He took their bags and instructed them to walk around the outside of the house.

“The family are all enjoying a mid-afternoon drink on the lawn,” Paul explained.

Fleur nodded and strode off, Hermione stumbling to catch up with her. Hermione was swallowing hard and paling.

Fleur shot her a sideways look.

“She is not as scary as she seems,” Fleur said reassuringly, although it didn’t reassure Hermione at all.

They rounded the corner and Hermione was once again struck by how much the Delacours resembled something from a set of stock photos.

Alexandre and Apolline were sitting on some lawn chairs, helping themselves to some gin and tonics. Beside Alexandre was an exceedingly handsome Hispanic looking man and another blonde woman who looked very similar to Apolline.

On the lawn in front of them were several small platinum-blonde children playing. A woman with long blonde hair was facing away from Hermione and Fleur, playing with the children.

Apolline spotted them immediately and ran forward to embrace them.

“Fleur! Hermione! I am so glad you made it, I have been worried sick since your call yesterday!” Apolline gushed, “Hermione, this is my sister and her husband—Victoire and Samuel.”

She gestured at the man and woman that were sitting next to Alexandre, who inclined their heads in polite but haughty way.

“Hello,” Hermione said politely, waving awkwardly at them.

“And this,” Apolline stepped back, allowing them clear view of the woman with the children, “Is my mother, Cassandra.”

The woman stood up, straightening her back. Hermione could feel a warm heat in the air that seemed to be radiating from the woman. Her hair, on closer inspection, was even more platinum than Fleur and Apolline’s. It had more of a silvery quality to it.

She turned elegantly, her hair fanning out.

Hermione’s jaw dropped. This was Fleur’s _grandmother_?!

Cassandra looked no older than twenty-one. Her face was fresh and unlined, with high cheekbones and plump pink lips. She had shimmering blue eyes that seemed to be flecked with silver. Something about her seemed inhuman, although she resembled an incredibly attractive human woman.

“Hello, dear,” Cassandra greeted. She had a strangely hypnotic way of speaking that seemed to draw Hermione in.

Hermione felt a warmth of desire, undercut by a current of danger. Distantly, she supposed that Veela were predators, which would explain the edge of danger.

“Grandmere,” Fleur sighed, stepping forward and throwing her arms around Cassandra. Cassandra hugged her tightly.

“Fleur,” Cassandra purred, “I have missed you. I can sense the child within you. A son?”

“Oui! I didn’t know you could tell things like that!” Fleur exclaimed, stepping back and resting her hands on top of her stomach.

Hermione watched Cassandra, entirely transfixed by the Veela and her mysterious powers.

Cassandra smiled slyly.

“There are a number of things that you can do when not weighted down with human blood,” Cassandra grinned.

“Easy on!” Samuel called out in jest.

Cassandra smirked, turning to stick her tongue out at Samuel playfully.

Hermione was shocked with just how young the woman seemed for a grandmother. Not just in looks but in her demeanour.

Cassandra’s eyes flicked back to Hermione so quick it startled her. Her eyes seemed to shimmer silver for a moment. But then they were back to the silver-flecked blue and Hermione wondered if she had imagined it.

“Veela do not age the same way as humans,” Cassandra said, almost as if she could read Hermione’s mind. Hermione shivered. Probably a coincidence. 

“Grandmere, I have been unable to sleep,” Fleur said, interrupting, “The Healer said if it is not remedied then I will have to go to the hospital.”

  
Cassandra smiled, observing Fleur.

“Oh, Fleur,” Cassandra sighed, “You have always kept your heart locked up so tightly.”

“Maman, are you going to help or speak in riddles?” Apolline huffed. Hermione suppressed a smile. Apolline reminded her so much of Fleur in that moment.

Cassandra reached forward, one hand cupping Fleur’s face and the other cupping Hermione’s. Her skin was so silky soft; unlike anything Hermione had ever felt. A warmth coursed through her body and she tried not to let her eyes flicker shut contentedly.

Cassandra’s eyes stared deeply into Hermione’s. Hermione could feel a pull, like a riptide at the beach. Dangerous and beautiful. Her eyes shone brightly. They were so pretty, but distinctly not human.

Cassandra smiled enchantingly, before her gaze moved to Fleur.

“She resists the thrall well, Fleur,” Cassandra smiled, “You picked well.”

“Grandmere, I am so tired, how do I fix it?” Fleur asked, her voice almost breaking with desperation. She had the manner of a petulant child as she spoke to her grandmother. Hermione smiled, it was adorable.

Cassandra smiled more broadly.

“Fleur, your solution is right here,” Cassandra replied. The hand that was cupping Hermione’s face playfully slapped Hermione’s cheek ever so gently.

“Hermione?” Fleur asked, confused.

Cassandra released Fleur and Hermione, stepping back and observing them in the strange way she had. It reminded Hermione terribly of an animal. A predator appearing relaxed but always alert.

“The Veela blood has always bloomed so strongly within you, Fleur,” Cassandra smiled, “Just like your mother. When Veela are with child, they cannot rest properly without their mate beside them. Hermione, you must be exhausted too, non?”

“Immensely,” Hermione admitted, stifling a yawn.

“Well, the solution is as simple as resting together,” Cassandra said simply.

Fleur seemed irritated by this.

“Grandmere! You couldn’t have told me this by owl?! Or even over Papa’s phone?!” Fleur snapped. Hermione stood patiently beside her, having fully expected Fleur to lose her temper at the situation eventually.

“I wanted to see you,” Cassandra replied, “If you stay here for a couple of nights I can be assured things are progressing as they should.”

“I have been regularly seeing a Healer,” Fleur pouted, crossing her arms defensively.

“ _Humans_ can be dangerous in their assumptions,” Cassandra said with barely veiled disdain, “I needed to check you myself.”

“I am three-quarters human,” Fleur retorted, still defensive.

Cassandra stepped forward, prodding Fleur in the chest with an index finger.

“Which makes you ignorant of the important other quarter,” Cassandra said firmly, “Now get upstairs with your woman and go rest. We will talk more after you have recharged a little.”

Fleur looked riled, but Hermione put a hand on her arm to still her temper. Hermione herself was a little miffed at being referred to as dismissively as “Fleur’s woman,” but she was hardly about to argue with the intimidating creature.

Fleur looked at Hermione, her furrowed brow relaxing slightly. She exhaled heavily, looking back at her grandmother.

“Fine,” Fleur conceded.

It did not escape Hermione’s notice that Apolline and Alexandre were exchanging meaningful glances again.

Fleur didn’t speak again, storming inside the mansion. Hermione smiled apologetically at the others before following the temperamental blonde. She caught up with her on the stairs.

“I love my Grandmere, but _Merlin_ , she can be as infuriating as Maman sometimes,” Fleur growled.

Hermione diplomatically decided to stay silent, simply following the blonde. Her mind had turned to Cassandra’s advice. Fleur and her had to rest together in order to properly sleep. A Veela must rest with their mate when with child. So she was Fleur’s mate? Was that simply for the duration of Fleur carrying her child? Or was that a more permanent position?

Fleur wrenched open the bedroom door, walking in and shedding her top immediately. Hermione swallowed heavily at the prospect of climbing into bed with blonde goddess. Fleur kicked off her shoes and took off her pants, still muttering irritably about her mother and her grandmother. She walked over to the window, clad in lacy lingerie, to shut the curtains tightly.

Hermione’s eyes roamed down Fleur’s back, savouring the sight. She loved the little dimples at the base of Fleur’s back. She loved the way Fleur’s ass looked in the thong she was wearing. Fleur turned around, azure eyes catching Hermione’s gaze. She smirked.

Hermione blushed, averting her eyes.

Fleur stripped off the rest of the way, gliding over to the bed and climbing in.

“What are you waiting for, Hermione?” Fleur asked, “I’m so very ready to sleep.”

“Err,” Hermione kept her eyes averted, blushing further.

She knew they weren’t going to do anything g other than sleep, but the simple situation of a naked Fleur in bed asking her to come join her was incredibly overwhelming.

Hermione awkwardly shed her longsleeved tee. She had a singlet underneath, which was enough to keep her covered up. She took off her shoes and jeans, stripping down to her boyshort underwear.

She stepped over to the bed cautiously, embarrassed at Fleur’s eyes on her.

“So, uh, I just get in?” Hermione asked.

Fleur nodded, frustrated.

“God, Hermione, it’s a nap, not a marriage proposal,” Fleur said restlessly.

Hermione just nodded, pulling back the covers and climbing in. She lay on her back and stared at the ceiling.

“Is this right? Is this working?” Hermione asked out loud.

Fleur shuffled restlessly in the bed beside her.

“Non,” Fleur growled, “Stupid Grandmere.”

Hermione tried to think of the last time they had shared a bed. They had slept for quite a while that time.

“Er, what if we… Cuddled?” Hermione suggested, blushing at the very suggestion. She half-expected Fleur to bite her head off.

But Fleur didn’t reply, instead rolling over to get closer to Hermione. She pulled Hermione’s arm to wrap around her shoulders and rested her head on Hermione’s chest. Fleur’s arm flung around Hermione’s stomach, holding her tightly.

“Ah, I see,” Fleur said with a big yawn, “This feels… Better…”

Hermione smiled, a relaxation spreading through her tense muscles. Her eyes began to get heavy and she let them flutter shut.

* * *

Hermione awoke blearily, registering that she was in a bed at the Delacour mansion. Her face was nestled deeply into silky soft platinum blonde hair that smelled faintly of lillies. Her arms were wrapped around Fleur, spooning her body tightly. She sighed contentedly.

Fleur murmured and shifted in her arms, pressing herself even closer to Hermione. Hermione felt a jolt of arousal at the naked woman in her hold. Fleur’s curvy backside was pushed right up against her pelvis and Hermione resisted the urge to run her hands down to grab it.

She felt calm, rested and satisfied. A relaxed sleepiness fell over her again and she began to doze off, absentmindedly dipping her head to kiss Fleur’s shoulder before closing her eyes.

When she awoke later, Fleur was awake and sitting up, her hand distractedly playing with Hermione’s curls. Hermione sat up, startling Fleur, who withdrew her hand from Hermione’s hair.

“Morning,” Hermione greeted. Her voice was rough from sleep.

“Actually it is nearing lunchtime,” Fleur commented.

Hermione furrowed her brow, still dozy from sleep but thoroughly confused.

“What…? We went to bed just before dinnertime,” Hermione mumbled, rubbing her eyes.

“Oui,” Fleur confirmed, “We slept all the way through dinner, all the way through the night and through this morning.”

“Jesus,” Hermione’s jaw dropped, “I guess your grandmother really was right.”

“I feel so much better,” Fleur grinned, stretching lithely.

Hermione tried not to stare too much at the blonde’s nude form.

“I feel better too,” Hermione concurred. She had forgotten what it felt like to feel fully rested. In fact, she wasn’t even sure she had felt this good fully rested before.

Hermione’s stomach rumbled loudly and she clutched it self-consciously. Fleur smiled at her reassuringly.

“I’m starving too,” Fleur admitted, “Let’s get some brunch.”

She got out of bed and Hermione found her eyes glued to Fleur’s form again. She felt like a teenage boy, but she couldn’t help it, her eyes roaming up and down Fleur’s toned back and long legs before settling on her fantastic ass.

Fleur turned around unexpectedly, catching Hermione once again. She smirked.

“Hmmn, I was right about not many women comparing to me, non?” Fleur teased. Hermione blushed.

“Oh, shut up, Fleur,” Hermione muttered, embarrassed.

Fleur grinned, delighted at teasing the brunette.

“I’ve noticed you are a bit of an ass woman,” Fleur teased further, “Is that your favourite part of a woman? You certainly seem to like looking at mine.”

“Stop,” Hermione said, growing even more embarrassed. Fleur laughed.

“Very well,” Fleur said, selecting some clothes as she almost bounced to the ensuite to get changed, “I like it though, it makes me feel attractive even with this belly.”

She closed the bathroom door and Hermione sighed, leaning back on the bed. Fleur’s mood seemed the best it had been in a long time. Must be a result of finally resting up.

Hermione processed the whirlwind of the past twenty-four hours, her brain working rapidly now she had finally had a decent night’s sleep. It seemed like her and Fleur would need to share a bed each night during the pregnancy for the good of their own, and the baby’s, health.

Hermione smiled. She really liked cuddling Fleur at night. And Fleur? She didn’t seem to hate it. She cuddled up into Hermione without any prompting and had seemed content enough.

There was only one issue. Fleur’s love of sleeping naked was torturous for Hermione. When she had woken in the night spooning the blonde, it had been absolutely painful having to keep her hands respectably to herself.

Hermione sighed shakily, getting up and getting ready for the day, trying to push all inappropriate thoughts out of her mind.

* * *

Hermione sat at the elegant dining table of the Delacour mansion, marvelling at the array of brunch items available to her. Fleur had already loaded up her plate and was eagerly eating crepes loaded with strawberries.

“Fleur, I don’t think I’ve seen you eat so eagerly in your life,” Apolline exclaimed. She was sitting across from Hermione and Fleur, beside her sister Victoire and her husband Samuel. Beside Samuel were two of the toddlers from the previous day, sitting in little high chairs as Samuel patiently tried to encourage them to eat.

At one head of the table was Alexandre. At the other, was Cassandra, who only had a simple glass of water in front of her.

Hermione was sitting beside Fleur. On her other side was a small child who looked around five years old. She had the characteristic platinum blonde hair of the Veela and striking blue eyes.

“Oh, hello there,” Hermione greeted the child, “I’m Hermione.”

“Hello. My name is Sophie,” the child replied with an excited grin.

“What are you having for brunch?” Hermione asked gently.

“Hello! My name is Sophie!’ the child repeated with a giggle.

Samuel shook his head, smiling across the table at Hermione.

“She only knows how to say those two things in English,” Samuel explained, “It has been tricky for her learning Spanish and English at the same time.”

Hermione nodded.

“Hello!” Sophie giggled, tugging at Hermione’s sleeve.

“Hello,” Hermione replied, grinning widely. The child was so cute.

Alexandre was watching Hermione with quiet approval, a sparkle in his eyes.

“You are a natural with children, Hermione,” Alexandre commented, “Do dig in to the food though.”

“Oui, it is delicious,” Fleur added, encouraging Hermione.

Apolline looked at Fleur with wide eyes.

“What has you so sweet?” Apolline commented, “And so ravenous?”

A coy smile grew on Apolline’s face.

“Ah, don’t bother answering Fleur… A night with your mate was all you needed, non? I am the same way with your father. One night of satisfaction leaves me ravenous and happy.”

“Maman!” Fleur exclaimed, pulling a face, “I’m eating!”

“Fleur,” Cassandra intervened in her curious, hypnotic voice, “Sexuality is the most natural thing in the world.”

“Grandmere!” Fleur said, affronted, “You are just as bad as Maman… So… So Veela!”

Cassandra clucked her tongue with disapproval.

“Fleur, you have never embraced that side of yourself,” Cassandra said, shaking her head, “You may only be a quarter Veela, but you are still Veela.”

“Mostly human,” Fleur replied obstinately, digging into some more food.

Hermione was surprised. She didn’t know that Fleur had any hang ups around her blood status.

“ _Enough!_ ” Cassandra unexpectedly snapped, slamming a hand down on the dinner table, hard. The children fell silent, wide eyed. The adults all halted their movements, looking at Cassandra warily.

Cassandra’s eyes were totally silver now, no whites of her eyes and no iris or pupil, just all silver. The hand on the table no longer had carefully manicured nails, but sharp talons that were scratching the polished surface of the table. Hermione could see a few stray feathers that had erupted on Cassandra’s slender arm.

Fleur’s temper immediately dissipated and she watched her grandmother attentively.

“Fleur Isabelle Delacour,” Cassandra said slowly. Her voice was no longer soft, but raspy and harsh. “You dare be ashamed of your heritage? Veela are a highly evolved species. We are powerful. We have far more advanced senses than mere humans. You may be _mostly_ human but you are certainly not a human. You are a human-Veela. The pregnancy as a result of lying with a human woman is evidence enough of that. The Veela blood runs so strongly within you… Don’t you _dare_ turn your back on your heritage. It is what brings you your greatest strengths.”

“Oui, Grandmere,” Fleur said, ducking her head in deference, “Je suis desolee,”

“It is fine, Fleur,” Cassandra said, her features beginning to soften, “I know you are under pressure right now with the unexpected pregnancy and overwhelming hormones. Just do not let yourself think poorly of the Veela again. You should be proud.”

Cassandra rolled her shoulders and shut her eyes. The feathers retracted back into her skin and her talons receded, shaping themselves back into a pretty manicure. She opened her eyes again, revealing the deep blue with flecked silver.

Hermione was fascinated. She had never seen a Veela transformation up close, let alone a partial transformation.

Cassandra sighed, smiling sweetly.

“I am sorry for losing my temper,” she said to the table, her voice back to being velvety and having its odd hypnotic quality, “Please, do return to your meals.”

The brunch continued in a more subdued manner, before the group retired outdoors to enjoy the pleasant weather.

“Hermione!” Sophie called, waving out to Hermione as she and the toddlers ran out to frolic on the lawn.

Samuel grinned at her.

“She’s learnt your name!” Samuel exclaimed, “That’s something.”

Hermione laughed before turning to the children. She jumped towards the lawn, changing into her animagus form as she flew through the air. In cat form she had heightened hearing, and flinched a little at the loud excited squealing of the children.

The children toddled towards her, hands outstretched to pat her long and soft fur. Hermione tried not to hiss as their clumsy hands patted too hard and tugged a little at her fur.

Sophie pulled Hermione out of the hands of the twins, lifting her into her arms and squeezing her tightly. Almost too tightly, as Hermione wheezed a little.

Sophie carried her happily over to the lawn chairs where the adults sat, proudly showing her mother and father.

“Hermione!” Sophie grinned.

“Yes, that is Hermione,” Samuel grinned, reaching forward and patting Hermione on the head. Victoire beamed at her daughter’s glee, ruffling her daughter’s hair and then scratching Hermione behind the ear.

Sophie then hoisted Hermione over to her cousin, Fleur.

Sophie asked Fleur something in French and Fleur smiled.

“Oui,” Fleur replied to Sophie.

Hermione found herself being passed roughly by the five-year old to her elder cousin. Fleur held Hermione far more gently, resting her in her lap and stroking her fur gently.

Hermione found herself purring involuntarily, kneading at Fleur’s lap before settling herself down to sit in a little loaf-like position on Fleur. Fleur kept patting her rhythmically.

Sophie ran over to Victoire, tugging at her skirt and chatting excitedly in rapid French. Fleur chuckled lightly.

“She is asking if she can have a cat like my one,” Fleur told Hermione, chuckling. She kept stroking Hermione’s long fur. Hermione felt like she was in heaven, purring loudly.

She took the opportunity to watch the group around her. Alexandre was pouring everyone a gin and tonic. He was looking handsome and preened in his chinos and button up shirt.

Hermione then looked at Samuel. He was a very attractive man, with a chiselled jaw and thick curly dark hair that seemed perfectly styled. He was very muscular and lean, practically bursting out of his button up shirt.

The Veela women all had exceedingly beautiful partners. Hermione felt self-conscious. Maybe that was why Fleur had been embarrassed. Hermione was nothing but a scarred, bushy haired bookworm.

She clambered down from Fleur’s lap, transforming back into her regular form.

“You okay?” Fleur asked.

“Yeah,” Hermione replied, trying to keep the glumness out of her voice, “I just feel like a walk around the grounds. I’ll be back.”

* * *

Hermione was in a low mood for the rest of the day.

She hated that she wanted someone who was so entirely out of her league. She kept quiet at dinner. Thankfully Apolline was too busy gushing to the table over her excitement of having a grandchild for anybody to notice.

After dinner, however, Alexandre approached her.

“Scotch in the study, Hermione?” Alexandre asked.

“I don’t know,” Hermione shrugged.

“Come, it is your last night,” Alexandre insisted, “I would like to spend some time with you. Nobody else in this household would discuss international trading regulations with me.”

Hermione snorted, following the reserved man into his study.

Alexandre poured them both a scotch, setting into an armchair. Hermione took the other one, sipping tentatively at her drink. It went down far better this time. Alexandre was definitely getting her used to the liquor.

“You know, you are the first one of Fleur’s paramours that I have truly bonded with,” Alexandre commented, sipping at his own drink.

“I’m not her… I’m not her paramour,” Hermione said uncomfortably, shuffling.

“No, no, of course not,” Alexandre concurred, “My Fleur does not really let many people get close to her. Of the people she has brought home because she has been seeing them, none have really got to know the real her. Perhaps that is why I never truly bond with them?”

“I wouldn’t say I know the real Fleur,” Hermione said guardedly, “And I certainly am not seeing her.”

Alexandre watched her carefully, in the unreadable, calculating way he had.

“But you would not mind if you were,” Alexandre commented.

Hermione didn’t reply. She didn’t want to further her own humiliation by admitting to Fleur’s father that she wanted Fleur.

They sat in an amiable silence for a while, sipping at their drinks.

“She likes you, you know,” Alexandre said finally.

“She said so?” Hermione asked, suspicious.

“No, of course not,” Alexandre admitted, “But Apolline and I can tell from the way she interacts with you. She is not like that with anyone else. Not even her best friend.”

Hermione frowned at the mention of Bill, the overheard conversation weighing on her mind again.

“She seems pretty open with Bill,” Hermione said, trying to keep the sulkiness out of her voice.

Alexandre shook his head.

“She thoroughly enjoys spending time with him, oui,” Alexandre said, “She loves sharing her life with him and hearing about his life, oui. They are very close! But she holds back from him. The man’s flaw is that he can be judgmental. She doesn’t like the feeling of being judged over anything.”

Hermione snorted.

“She seems to love judging,” Hermione said, quirking a smile. She remembered Fleur’s displeasure at Hogwarts, as well as the numerous tantrums and disdainful comments she had made since Hermione had become reacquainted with her again.

Alexandre laughed.

“Oui, she does,” Alexandre chuckled, “She can be a little princess, my Fleur. But that does not mean she is not sensitive. She despises being judged back and will go to lengths to avoid it. That is why you must tread carefully if you tease her. I am sure you are familiar with her temper.”

“That I am,” Hermione chuckled, “So… You think sometimes what she is saying to Bill is not what she is feeling?”

Alexandre shrugged.

“Sometimes it is, sometimes she is humouring him,” Alexandre replied, “If you want to know what she really thinks about something, you should ask her. She seems far more genuine with you.”

“Maybe even to a fault,” Hermione said, grinning at Alexandre. Alexandre burst into laughter.

“My, you have been on the receiving end of that fiery Veela temper!” Alexandre chortled, “Tell me, has she started demanding the strange cravings yet? I thought her mother was actually going to hex me once when I didn’t bring her chocolate covered pickles while she was pregnant with Gabrielle!”

Hermione cackled.

“Yes! The other night she had me come over with ice cream and hot sauce. She seemed to love it!” Hermione laughed.

Alexandre laughed too, sipping at his scotch.

“Don’t give up on my daughter, Hermione,” Alexandre asked, “I really do think that you two would make a good match… And I’m not just saying that because I get along with you so well.”


	11. Chapter 11

Hermione stretched, getting changed into boxers and a singlet for bed.

Fleur was in the bathroom, carrying out a lengthy beauty routine.

Hermione had showered and brushed her teeth within fifteen minutes before heading into the bedroom to get dressed.

Fleur had taken a half hour shower approximately an hour ago. Hermione rolled her eyes. The woman was high maintenance. Surely it didn’t matter how much she moisturised when her Veela blood assured she would look gorgeous.

Hermione clambered into bed. She already felt extremely relaxed.

She thought about what Alexandre said. It did get her hopes up a little, and made her feel a bit braver with the blonde.

The door of the bathroom finally opened and Fleur entered, nude again and entirely unbothered. She turned off the lights and glided elegantly to bed, climbing in as if it were her usual routine to share her bed with Hermione already.

Hermione, braver still in the darkness, grabbed Fleur firmly and pulled her in to cuddle. Fleur made a little noise of surprise.

“You are bold this evening,” Fleur commented, “I like it, it reminds me of how you were the evening I stayed over at Grimmauld Place.”

Hermione felt a twinge of arousal at that. She held Fleur tightly. Fleur let out a noise of content, snuggling in to her sleepily.

Hermione smiled, falling asleep easily.

She awoke in the late morning the next morning. She felt energised and incredibly rested. She was sure she had never felt as rested before in her life.

Fleur got up and stretched, before proceeding to the ensuite without prompting. Hermione grinned, getting up and getting changed. It was nice that Fleur was warming to her a little. Or at least not annoyed by her.

Hermione pulled on a tee, jeans and jumper. Fleur soon returned, dressed in a casual dress and a cosy oversized cardigan.

They headed downstairs, Fleur immediately drifting in to the dining room to seek out some breakfast. Hermione dallied, watching Fleur from the hallway.

“Conflicted?”

Hermione jumped. She hadn’t noticed the temperature rising in the air. But a warmth had definitely fallen over her. Cassandra stood nearby, watching Hermione with an amused smile.

“Er, just thinking about Fleur,” Hermione admitted awkwardly.

Cassandra drew closer to her, ushering her to walk with her. Hermione walked further down the hallway with the Veela.

“You can tell me,” Cassandra said in her strange hypnotic voice, “I won’t tell anyone else.”

It was strange, but Hermione believed her. She found herself oddly at ease with the beautiful creature.

“I… Uh… Sometimes it seems like she is warming to me, sometimes I feel like I’m pushing her away,” Hermione admitted, “I can’t tell what it is that I do that makes her warm to me.”

Cassandra smiled slyly, her eyes briefly shimmering silvery.

“You mean… You can’t figure out why she slept with you the first time and hasn’t shown much interest since?” Cassandra asked, causing Hermione to blush.

“I… Er…” Hermione mumbled awkwardly.

Cassandra chuckled, cocking her head to one side pityingly.

“Poor human,” Cassandra cooed, “Think about your manner… What is different to the first time?”

“I-I don’t know,” Hermione blushed deeper, averting her eyes.

“This,” Cassandra hissed, stepping closer to Hermione. She almost had the brunette pinned to the wall.

“Er-um, w-what?” Hermione stammered, biting her lip and looking up at the Veela.

Cassandra smiled coyly.

“Veela are predators,” Cassandra said in a low and silky voice. She lifted her hand and stroked her fingers down Hermione’s cheek.

“I-I know that,” Hermione said in an unsteady voice. Cassandra smiled wider, baring her perfect white teeth.

“Do you?” Cassandra smirked, “Because right now you seem more like prey than a potential mate.”

In an instant her talons extended from her fingers, poising themselves against the soft flesh of Hermione’s throat. Cassandra’s eyes turned silver.

Hermione gasped, her breath catching in her throat.

“Uh, if I did something to upset you… I’m sorry…” Hermione uttered nervously. She wasn’t sure what was going on with Cassandra but the razor sharp talons at her throat were enough to terrify her.

Cassandra’s smile widened even further.

“If you’re bold and brave, you seduce a Veela,” Cassandra murmured, her voice harsh and scratchy, “If you’re timid… You’re nothing but another poor, bumbling fly stuck in our web. That does nothing for a Veela’s interest.”

Cassandra sighed heavily, shutting her eyes as she retracted her talons. When her eyes opened again, her eyes were back to being blue and silver flecked.

“I… I don’t think Fleur thinks like that,” Hermione said, although she was a little unsure.

“Fleur is a quarter Veela and often wilfully ignorant of it,” Cassandra shrugged, “I am simply explaining the Veela instincts to you. Think on it.”

Cassandra flipped her long sheet of silvery hair, gliding lightly down the hallway and out of sight without another word.

Hermione frowned, furrowing her brow. Such a strange encounter.

_‘I’m a Gryffindor, I am bold and brave,’_ Hermione thought to herself defensively.

She turned slowly back towards the direction of the dining room, thinking it over. She did get flustered a lot around Fleur. Embarrassed and awkward too.

She slowly stepped down the hallway, deep in thought. She remembered what Fleur had said the previous night as she had pulled her roughly into a cuddle. She had explicitly said that Hermione was acting bold and she _liked it._

Hermione felt like an idiot.

She walked into the dining room, sitting down beside Fleur.

_‘Act bold, act bold…’_ Hermione thought to herself, _‘… How do you act bold???’_

She grew sceptical again as she collected some food from the middle of the table. Her friends constantly told her that she was bossy. When had she become so timid?

She glanced sideways at Fleur.

The blonde didn’t seem so intimidating at the moment. She was happily chomping down on some toast, looking pretty and relaxed.

“Sleeping with your woman agrees with you,” Apolline commented with a smile.

It was just Apolline, Alexandre, Fleur and Hermione at the breakfast table. Samuel and Victoire had got up early and headed off with their kids. Cassandra was keeping to herself, roaming the mansion and the grounds. Hermione thought it was a little rude, but from what she could gather from the others, it seemed entirely normal. Cassandra came and went from the Delacour mansion as she pleased, interacting when she felt like it and roaming around alone when she didn’t. It reminded Hermione amusingly of a cat.

Fleur didn’t reply to her mother. Alexandre smiled encouragingly at Hermione.

“I was thinking… We will probably have to continue sharing a bed when we return to the UK,” Hermione said cautiously.

Fleur’s face remained relaxed and she nodded simply.

“Oui,” Fleur replied, taking another bite out of her toast.

Apolline clapped her hands together excitedly.

“Finally,” Apolline beamed, “This is how it should be.”

“Calm down, Maman,” Fleur said testily.

“Do you have a preference for your place or mine?” Hermione asked, “Personally, I think you should stay at Grimmauld Place-- there would be a lot more space.”

“Sure,” Fleur shrugged.

“Okay, okay… Great,” Hermione smiled slightly. Fleur’s temper seemed far more settled now she was getting rest each night. Alexandre shot her another encouraging look.

Hermione smiled wider as she looked down at her food. Of course, being more direct with Fleur wasn’t the hardest part. Hermione knew what really made her self-conscious and timid. 

Her eyes glanced down at the sleeve of her jumper. It covered her scarred arm, where the word _‘MUDBLOOD’_ was crudely carved.

* * *

Hermione arrived back at Grimmauld Place that afternoon. She informed a wide eyed Harry and Ron that Fleur would be staying over each night.

“Bloody hell,” Ron gasped, his mouth wide open, “How did you pull that one off, ‘Mione?”

“It’s a Veela thing,” Hermione replied with exasperation, “It’s the only way she can rest. She needs rest for the baby.”

“Okay,” Ron replied, raising his eyebrows. He looked unconvinced.

“We have Sunday Night Dinner tonight, ‘Mione,” Harry reminded, “Will she be coming to that?”

“Erm, I suppose so,” Hermione replied, “She did say she would come around here just before dinner.”

“Bringing your missus to Sunday Night Dinner,” Ron teased, wiggling his eyebrows.

Hermione shoved him playfully.

“Shut up,” Hermione mumbed.

There was a knock at the door and Hermione remembered she had invited Amelie to hang out with her. She ignored Ron’s wiggling eyebrows as she went to the door and opened it.

“Hey, Golden Girl,” Amelie beamed.

“Is this another girlfriend? Hermione, you stud!” Ron bellowed out teasingly, before erupting into giggles.

“Shut _up_ , Ron!” Hermione shouted, blushing.

“Is this a bad time?” Amelie giggled, smiling at the brunette.

“No, ignore him—he’s an idiot,” Hermione replied as Ron made a noise of outrage in the background, “Let’s catch up in my room, yeah? Away from certain redheaded buffoons.”

Amelie nodded, her grey eyes sparkling with amusement.

Up in Hermione’s room, Hermione sighed heavily before pacing the room.

“You okay?” Amelie asked.

Hermione grimaced, looking at the pretty raven-haired girl helplessly.

“Am I… Am I timid?” Hermione asked, biting her lip.

“Only when it comes to women,” Amelie replied, smiling reassuringly.

Hermione groaned, burying her face in her hands.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Amelie asked, stepping forward, “Did something happen with the girl you like?”

Hermione raised her face from her hands.

“No, and that’s the problem,” Hermione grumbled, “How do I stop being timid with women?”

“You just seem a little self-conscious is all,” Amelie shrugged, “It isn’t a bad thing. It just meant that I took the lead the time we, you know.”

Hermione blushed and Amelie giggled.

“Aww, I like how adorable you are when you get all flustered,” Amelie cooed, cupping Hermione’s face. Hermione frowned, trying her best to look intimidating.

“It isn’t adorable,” Hermione growled.

Amelie giggled more, but refrained from commenting more on the subject.

“How do I stop being self-conscious?” Hermione asked, biting her lip.

“I don’t know,” Amelie replied, “Maybe you are overthinking it? Just act on what you want instead of what you are afraid of happening.”

“Easier said than done,” Hermione replied flatly.

“Yeah, well how about doing instead of saying?” Amelie suggested, arching an eyebrow.

Hermione frowned briefly, before realising she was doing exactly what Amelie had said she shouldn’t do—overthinking it.

She grabbed Amelie around the waist and pushed her against a nearby wall. She pressed her body tightly against Amelie’s.

Amelie gasped, her pupils wide and her eyes firmly on Hermione’s lips. Her chest was rising and falling heavily.

“Unh, Hermione…?” Amelie choked out in a strangled voice. Hermione sighed.

“It’s easier when it isn’t her,” Hermione shook her head, releasing Amelie, “And easier when I’m not showing anything.”

“What do you mean?” Amelie asked softly, “What don’t you want to show?”

Hermione looked into Amelie’s sympathetic eyes. She just couldn’t tell the woman, no matter how nice and reassuring she was. She’d never even been able to voice her anxieties to Harry, Ron or Ginny.

The door burst open and Hermione took a step back from Amelie, looking to see who had entered her room so suddenly.

Fleur was standing in the doorway, looking at Amelie and Hermione intensely. A cacophony of emotions seemed to flicker across her face before she set it to its usual icy indifference.

“Je suis desolee, am I interrupting something?” Fleur asked neutrally.

“No,” Hermione said quickly, taking another step back from Amelie.

“Hermione, are you sure you don’t want to talk some more?” Amelie asked, looking at her with concern. Hermione shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself.

“No, no, it’s fine,” Hermione replied, “We can catch up another time.”

“If you’re sure…” Amelie said, unconvinced. She stepped forward and hugged Hermione briefly before exiting the room, nodding politely at Fleur on her way out.

“I assume that woman was the date you mentioned the other day?” Fleur asked, her face and voice impassive.

“Yeah, but—“

“Good for you,” Fleur interrupted gracefully, “I brought my things over. I hope it is not too inconvenient that I arrived right before dinner.”

Fleur put down a small bag she had in one hand. Hermione had not noticed it at first in her surprise. She glanced down at her watch, realising that some time had passed while she had been talking with Amelie.

“Oh, right,” Hermione mumbled, running a hand through her curls distractedly, “Well, we are going to Sunday Night Dinner with the Weasleys. Ron told them that you might tag along, so you are more than welcome to join.”

“Ohh… Okay,” Fleur said a little reluctantly, “Sure.”

* * *

Hermione stepped in to the dining room of The Burrow. She had a protective hand in the small of Fleur’s back. Harry and Ron were shooting her curious glances, but she ignored them. It was instinct, she felt a need to look after her unborn child as well as Fleur.

The blonde didn’t seem to mind, even leaning into her touch a little.

“Hello darlings!” Molly Weasley exclaimed, lighting up as soon as they entered the room.

She got up and gave them each a bone-crushing hug, beginning with Ron. When she got to Hermione, she looked at her appraisingly after releasing her. Her blue eyes flicked from Hermione to Fleur, then to Fleur’s protruding stomach.

“So, things are progressing well here?” Molly asked. Her smile radiated warmth but also showed curiosity.

“Yes,” Hermione grinned proudly, “We’re having a little boy.”

Fleur smiled serenely, content for now.

Her azure eyes roamed the room as Molly congratulated them, rambling about the joys of being a mother.

Around the dining room table were Arthur, Percy, Ginny, George, Kingsley Shacklebolt and…

“Hi, love,” Bill greeted, stepping past his mother to hug Fleur and kiss her on the cheek, “You’ve fallen off the grid recently.”

“We were in France,” Fleur explained.

Bill gave Hermione a sideways glance before looking back at Fleur with a smirk.

“How cute…” Bill said sardonically.

Fleur frowned. Hermione felt self conscious again. The judgmental gaze of Bill raised her awful anxieties again. With her bushy hair and casual clothing, she looked frumpy beside the fashionable and pretty Fleur.

“All right, take a seat everyone,” Molly interrupted, putting a hand on her son’s shoulder and steering him back to the table.

Hermione was relieved for the interruption, silently thanking Molly for stepping in.

As they sat down, Fleur winced slightly. Hermione’s hand was on Fleur’s baby bump in a second, a look of concern on her face.

“Are you okay?” Hermione murmured.

Fleur nodded.

“The pregnancy is just getting a little more uncomfortable by the day,” Fleur replied quietly. Her eyes flicked up and she caught Bill watching her, an amused smile on his face. Fleur frowned and removed Hermione’s hand from her stomach. She set about serving herself some food without another word.

“It must be exciting for you two,” Arthur commented, nodding at Hermione and Fleur.

“What about me? I’m pretty much gonna be an uncle,” Ron interjected, his mouth somehow already full of potato. Everyone else was only just dishing themselves food but Ron already had a heaped plate. It never ceased to amaze Hermione how fast that boy moved when it came to food.

Ginny elbowed her brother, causing him to momentarily choke on his potato.

“Way to make it about you,” Ginny said, rolling her eyes.

“Someone has to,” Ron shrugged.

“It is exciting, thanks Arthur,” Hermione interjected politely. A Ginny and Ron argument left uninterrupted was known to spiral out for the entirety of Sunday Dinners.

“Fleur has hardly mentioned it at work,” Bill said with a coy smile, “The goblins didn’t even know until she started showing.”

“It is not my fault they do not have keener senses,” Fleur sniffed, “They boast all the time about how goblins know all compared to humans and yet they couldn’t notice a simple pregnancy.”

“Typical,” Hermione murmured, quirking a smile. She was finding Fleur’s defensive rudeness cute more often these days.

She felt Bill’s gaze on her.

“How do you know what is typical of Fleur?” Bill asked. Molly shot him a withering gaze.

“Bill, don’t get like that,” Molly warned.

“No, no, I’m curious as to how Hermione thinks she knows my best friend better than me,” Bill retorted.

Ginny and Ron rolled their eyes, apparently unsurprised by Bill’s burst of temper.

“I never said that,” Hermione replied evenly.

Fleur was looking increasingly uncomfortable and it was making Hermione feel protective again.

“It sure seems like that,” Bill replied, “I used to spend every day with Fleur and now she’s constantly being dragged off by _you._ What makes you think she even wants to spend time with you over me?”

“Bill!” Molly chided.

“I never said that either,” Hermione replied tersely.

Fleur had dropped her gaze coldly and was picking at her food, not eating a thing.

“Now look here, Bill,” Harry interjected, unable to take anymore, “I get that you’re upset you haven’t been able to spend much time with your best mate lately, but that’s not Hermione’s fault. She’s just acting in the best interests of her baby.”

“Yeah, you gotta chill out, mate,” Ron agreed.

“Whatever,” Bill sulked, crossing his arms.

A tense silence fell over the table.

“So, still into those Muggle contraptions, Arthur?” Kingsley Shacklebolt said eventually, changing the subject.

Arthur nodded, eager to talk about his latest discovery – fidget spinners.

* * *

When they got back to Grimmauld Place it was late. Harry and Ron sloped straight off to bed.

Hermione headed upstairs with Fleur. The blonde had been quiet all night after Bill’s jealous outburst. Hermione was furious at the redhead. She loved the Weasleys, but it was a common weakness of that family to fall into a jealous and stubborn rage about things. The sooner Bill got over it, the better.

Right now Hermione was concerned about the effect it was having on Fleur. Hermione couldn’t imagine how she would cope if Harry, Ron and Ginny started acting erratically instead of just fully supporting her.

“You okay?” Hermione asked when Fleur returned back from the bathroom in her silk robe.

Hermione had changed into her tank top and boxers, clambering into her bed. Inwardly, she couldn’t wait until she had Fleur back in her bed, even if it was going to be platonic.

“I’m fine,” Fleur replied neutrally.

“You don’t give a lot away, do you?” Hermione said with a gentle smile.

Fleur shrugged before disrobing.

Hermione never fully ceased to be stunned by Fleur’s penchant for roaming around with no clothes. She felt her jaw slacken at the beauty of the Veela. Her eyes were soon drawn to the baby bump Fleur was resting her hand on elegantly. Hermione felt a happiness and pride swell within her at the child of hers that Fleur was carrying.

Fleur climbed into bed beside Hermione, settling down. She smirked as she noticed Hermione’s eyes on her.

“Your gaze certainly keeps my confidence in my body alive,” Fleur muttered, rolling onto her side. She propped her head with one arm, watching Hermione intently.

“I can’t imagine you having issues with your body confidence,” Hermione snorted, “You seem to spend half your time unclothed.”

“Do you have to be drunk in order to show your body?” Fleur asked, surprising Hermione with her directness, “I’ve noticed you are very uptight about me seeing anything.”

Hermione swallowed. It was a sore subject. One she hadn’t yet managed to broach with anyone else.

“Yes… Well…” Hermione gestured to the heavy scarring on her forearm spelling _‘MUDBLOOD.’_ She gently ran her fingers over other slashes Bellatrix had left over her arms that were visible, “They’re everywhere… Everyone knows about the Mudblood one, but… The slashes, they’re all across me.”

“So you let them change the way you behave?” Fleur asked. Her face wasn’t betraying any of her emotions. Hermione couldn’t tell if she was being judged or not by the blonde.

“Er,” Hermione faltered, unsure of what to say.

“Nothing to be ashamed of,” Fleur said quickly, “Bill is the same way about his scarred face. He has been so self-conscious since then. He behaves so differently now.”

“Self-conscious?!” Hermione exclaimed, “Bill is drop-dead gorgeous. If anything, the scars on his face make him look even more handsome and defined.”

“Well, you tell him that,” Fleur said in a low voice, barely loud enough for Hermione to hear, “He has been even more judgmental since then. Sometimes it is as if he must make people feel more self-conscious about themselves than he is.”

“Stupid,” Hermione muttered, “They’re not even that bad.”

“Neither are yours,” Fleur replied simply.

Hermione shook her head in disbelief. Fleur smiled.

“I have seen them, remember!” Fleur replied, “When they were fresh and now they are healed. When I saw your body that night _this_ ” Fleur patted her stomach, “happened, I was surprised how well they had healed.”

Hermione was stunned.

Fleur either didn’t seem to care about Hermione’s surprise, or was more concerned with her own rest, as she rolled over. Her back was to Hermione now as she nestled in against her pillow.

Hermione turned off the lights and slid in behind Fleur to spoon her.

As she slung an arm protectively around the blonde’s waist and felt Fleur’s backside against her, her pulse quickened. She thought back to the last time Fleur had seen her scars. When they had both pulled their clothes off with reckless abandon. Hermione hadn’t cared at all that night about Fleur seeing her. She had welcomed Fleur’s touch and kisses across her skin.

Hermione sighed shakily, trying her best not to torture herself further.


	12. Chapter 12

**[Flashback: The night at Grimmauld Place]**

_Hermione stumbled backwards, falling back to sit on her bed. Fleur straddled her, her lips not leaving Hermione’s neck._

_Hermione let out a small moan, letting her hands run down Fleur’s toned back before reaching her backside._

_“I swear you have the best ass in Britain,” Hermione moaned, squeezing appreciatively. She felt Fleur smile into her neck._

_“I’m not even from Britain,” Fleur giggled drunkenly._

_“The best ass in Europe, then,” Hermione stated grandly. She spanked Fleur’s ass as she said it, to emphasise her point._

_Fleur smiled again, kissing up the column of Hermione’s neck before sucking on her earlobe. Hermione groaned with pleasure, keeping a tight hold on the blonde in her lap. She was in heaven, feeling a wetness grow between her legs. She had never previously noticed an attraction towards women, but right now all she wanted was Fleur._

_Hermione reluctantly took her hands off Fleur’s ass and ran them slowly down her thighs. When she reached the bottom of Fleur’s dress, she began tugging it upwards. Fleur sat up slightly, allowing Hermione to pull her dress up and over her head._

_She immediately missed the pleasure of Fleur kissing at her neck and earlobe. But the vision in her lap was beyond worth it. Hermione threw Fleur’s dress across the room, as far away as she could. She grinned widely._

_Fleur had an amazing body. Hermione knew that already. But seeing it bare before her was an entirely different experience._

_Fleur smiled cockily._

_“I like the way you are looking at me,” Fleur commented, as Hermione’s hands once again glued themselves to her body, roaming freely. Fleur grinded slightly in her lap._

_“God, your hips are magic,” Hermione groaned, the friction spiking her arousal even higher._

_She could see Fleur’s nipples hardened through the ridiculously transparent bra she was wearing. It had elegant straps and not much fabric to it. Hermione’s hands returned to Fleur’s shapely backside, noting that the matching panties did not have much fabric to them either. The thong was barely there and allowed Hermione even more access to the smooth and soft skin._

_Fleur’s hands had been alternating between being clasped behind Hermione’s neck or tangled in the brunette’s wild curls. Now they ran down Hermione’s shoulders, one hand slipping underneath Hermione’s tee to rest on Hermione’s chest._

_It was an innocent touch, yet felt far more intimate than any sexual touch Hermione had ever experienced in the past._

_Fleur dipped her head, her soft and plump lips gently touching Hermione’s in the most delicate of kisses. Hermione hooked a hand behind Fleur’s neck, pulling her in harder and deepening the kiss. She pushed her tongue into Fleur’s mouth, savouring the small moan of pleasure that the blonde made._

_Fleur’s hands skittered over Hermione, getting clumsy with passion. She began to pull up Hermione’s tee._

_Hermione halted Fleur’s actions, quickly placing her hands on top of the blonde’s and breaking the kiss._

_“I have scars,” Hermione explained, “Everywhere.”_

_“Does it look like I care?” Fleur replied with a smile._

_“You might,” Hermione replied. She was very drunk, but the doubt was still there._

_“Trust me,” Fleur said, leaning in and kissing at Hermione’s neck, “I won’t.”_

_She nipped the soft flesh playfully before kissing it better. Hermione groaned. Fuck it._

_She pushed Fleur off her and onto the bed, standing up._

_Fleur made a noise of haughty outrage._

_“Relax, Fleur,” Hermione said, getting to her feet and pulling her wand out of her pocket, “I have to do the necessary spells, yeah?”_

_“Of course,” Fleur purred. She started slowly taking off her lingerie, her eyes on Hermione._

_“Merlin,” Hermione uttered shakily. She turned her back to Fleur, wanting to focus._

_She knew from Harry’s embarrassing mistake with a Hufflepuff girl that sound travelled surprisingly easy throughout Grimmauld Place. She also knew from Ron’s penchant for clumsily bursting into rooms that it was all too easy for someone to walk in on something they shouldn’t._

_She muttered under her breath, casting the necessary locking spell on the door and silencing charm on the room._

_Completed, she walked back to the bed, putting her wand down on her bedside table. She noticed the lacy bra hanging over the lamp, her eyes widening before slowly moving to the blonde beauty kneeling restlessly on her bed._

_“Sorted the necessary protection?” Fleur asked, quirking an eyebrow._

_“Of course,” Hermione replied. Fleur had evidently been burnt by lack of a silencing spell or locking charm before._

_Hermione slowly undid her belt, aware of bright azure eyes watching her every hand movement. She unbuttoned her fly before slowly lowering her pants. She took off her shoes and socks before pulling her pants off._

_Fleur huffed impatiently._

_“Could you possibly move slower?” Fleur growled._

_She got up, stepping up to Hermione and grabbing her tee, pulling it roughly over her head and throwing it across the room. Hermione smirked, beyond thrilled at how eager the beautiful woman seemed to be to get her naked._

_“Someone’s eager,” Hermione teased. Fleur growled, tearing Hermione’s bra and underwear off her._

_For once, Hermione’s mind wasn’t on her scars. She couldn’t be more oblivious to them. She was more distracted by the blonde who was melting into her arms._

_Hermione pressed her lips hungrily against Fleur, kissing her passionately. She hoisted her up into her arms, holding her tightly by the ass._

_Fleur looked surprised as Hermione stopped the kiss, just as abruptly. Before Fleur could say anything, Hermione threw her roughly on the bed, quickly clambering up and on top of her body._

_“Hermione—“_

_Hermione silenced Fleur’s whimper with her lips, kissing her once more. She grabbed Fleur by the wrists, pinning her arms above her head._

* * *

**[Present day]**

Hermione yawned as she awoke.

She was sure that sleeping with Fleur was giving her an additional boost of energy on top of just having a full night’s sleep. She was feeling beyond energized these days.

She tightened her grip on Fleur’s hip, still spooning the blonde. Morning sun was filtering through the gap in the curtains, illuminating the silvery quality in Fleur’s platinum blonde hair.

Hermione was uncomfortably aroused. She had a vague memory of what she had been dreaming about before she woke: the night that she and Fleur had made love passionately. It wasn’t helping that she had awoken to the blonde pressed firmly against her front.

Hermione hoped that Fleur couldn’t feel how hard her nipples were against her toned back. It would be beyond embarrassing.

Fleur yawned and wriggled in Hermione’s arms, as a result, pressing her backside harder against Hermione’s pelvis.

Hermione felt her grip tighten on Fleur’s hip even more, pulling the blonde into her tighter. She bit her lip, trying not to let out any noise of pleasure. She was sure Fleur would not be impressed.

“As partial as I am to a morning cuddle, I do need to get up for work,” Fleur said, her voice even.

Hermione felt herself blush.

“Er, right,” Hermione replied. Her voice was a little rough with the mix of sleep and arousal.

“And to do that, you need to release me,” Fleur pointed out.

“Right, uh, sorry,” Hermione replied, releasing the blonde.

Fleur slid away from her and clambered out of the bed, stretching. Hermione bit back the whimper that almost escaped her lips at the loss of contact. She rolled onto her back, frustrated.

“It’s still so early,” Hermione noted.

“I have to get back to mine and get ready for work,” Fleur replied, pulling on some underwear and a dress.

“You could just leave all your stuff here and fully move in,” Hermione suggested, “It would save bouncing back between the places. You could even have your own room—there are enough spare ones here.”

“I like having my space,” Fleur replied, sitting on the end of the bed and beginning to put her heels on.

“Well, it could be handy if you move in,” Hermione pressed, “I mean, after the baby is born it could make it a lot easier for sharing custody…”

Fleur sighed heavily.

“Hermione, I haven’t thought that far ahead yet,” Fleur said, her back still to her, “Maybe we can talk more about arrangements after the appointment this afternoon. Remember to meet me at 4pm at my work, oui?”

“Right,” Hermione confirmed, “I’ll be coming straight from class so won’t be able to get you anything on the way. But l can pick up anything you need after the Healers’ appointment.”

Fleur stood up, straightening her dress out. She frowned at her baby bump.

“Hermione, I will be fine,” Fleur replied firmly, “See you at four.”

She waved dismissively at Hermione before sweeping out of the room elegantly.

Hermione released a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding, slumping back on the bed.

* * *

Hermione chewed on the end of her quill restlessly.

She had been checking her watch constantly during her last class of the day. She was beyond eager to pick up Fleur from work and see the Healer. She knew Fleur wasn’t rundown anymore, but she just wanted assurance from the Healer that the baby and Fleur’s health were no longer at risk.

The wizard at the front of the room was underlining his last notes for the day in chalk. Hermione had already scribbled them down. She was an exceptionally fast note-taker.

The professor turned back to the class, smiling tightly.

“Now, class, as we head into the final parts of the course, I want you to think carefully about what areas of policy you would like to work in,” he advised, “There are countless areas you could work in, ranging widely in pay packets. Your head may be turned by some of those prestigious or lucrative jobs… But I would strongly advise you to spend the rest of your time until the end of your studies thinking about an area you would like to make a difference in. Because that really is the most rewarding type of work you could get.”

Hermione propped her head up on her hand, trying to think. She had numerous interests and endless areas she wanted to make a difference in.

Finally, the class was over. Hermione effectively sprinted from the room.

As soon as she was out of the university grounds she apparated to Diagon Alley.

Hermione was walking at a brisk pace. Rationally, she knew that walking faster wouldn’t speed up the amount of time she had to wait until the appointment, but it did make her feel better about it.

As she approached Gringotts, she noticed an extremely large crowd jostling in front of the bank. There were a number of dark cloaked witches and wizards that seemed to be in a scuffle with general members of the public. There was a lot of shouting and Hermione couldn’t quite tell what was going on.

“Excuse me, I need to get through, I’m meeting someone,” Hermione tried to push through the crowd, having no luck as it was so packed she could not get past. 

She furrowed her brow, deciding to go to plan B.

Hermione morphed into her animagus form and scurried through the crowd, ducking quickly between shuffling feet. A stray foot kicked her, resulting in a sharp jab of pain in her ribs, but Hermione pushed on.

She finally got through the crowd, leaping up the steps of Gringotts agilely.

Hermione halted as she noticed the once-pristine white marble of the bank was now ruined with blood red spray paint. There were a number of different messages, but the largest one by far stood out a mile away: _CREATURES HAVE NO PLACE IN HUMAN SOCIETY._

Hermione’s wide eyes moved to the other scrawls marring the marble. Similar hate messages.

  
Hermione had heard that there was an undercurrent of hate still out there, even since the war. But hate groups seldom felt bold enough to act after the downfall of the Dark Lord.

Hermione padded slowly up the steps, ducking behind a pillar as the doors of the bank opened. A number of goblins ambled out, looking even more irritable than usual. Behind them came Bill, Fleur and another human looking staff member. Fleur was looking icier than usual, her jaw clenched. Bill was pale, running a hand through his hair.

Bill and Fleur stepped aside from the other bank staff, close to the pillar.

“Did you read the stuff they wrote?” Bill asked, his voice a little hoarse, “Do you think they would know I’m a werewolf?”

“Well, we have no idea who even did it. It could be them,” Fleur gestured to the dark cloaked figures tussling in the crowd, “Or it could be someone else. I think we should just ignore it.”

“Bit hard to bloody ignore!” Bill exclaimed, “What if they know about us?”

“What of it?” Fleur said coldly.

“Read the messages, Fleur,” Bill said, his voice shaking a bit more, “They _hate_ us! We’re disgusting, subhuman…”

“—Bill, pull yourself together,” Fleur cut him off.

“It’s true though, isn’t it? We aren’t normal,” Bill said, his voice growing even more unsteady.

“We’re pretty much human,” Fleur retorted.

“Pretty much isn’t good enough though, is it?” Bill responded, “Clearly not!”

“I’m _human_ , Bill!” Fleur snapped, “That is all there is to it. I’m not a damned creature.”

Hermione heard Fleur’s heels click away down the steps, heading towards the crowd. Hermione quickly transformed back to her usual form, hurrying after Fleur.

“Fleur! Wait!” Hermione called, catching up to the blonde.

“Where did you come from?” Fleur asked neutrally.

“I just got through the crowd,” Hermione said quickly, “Let me apparate us. It won’t take much to get us to the Healer’s office so it should be safe for the baby.”

“We should be limiting apparation with the baby,” Fleur pointed out to her, pausing and turning to face Hermione.

“Yes, well, I don’t like the look of some of the people down there,” Hermione said, nodding towards the rioting crowd. Besides, she inwardly added, Fleur’s distinctly Veela features made her a target for anti-creature bigots.

Fleur frowned, almost as if she could read Hermione’s mind.

“I’m human, they shouldn’t give me any trouble,” Fleur said firmly.

Hermione was beginning to understand more why Fleur held hang-ups around her part-creature status. She felt sorry for the blonde, not that she would ever tell her that. She didn’t realize that magical creatures still had to deal with hate post-war.

“Yes, well, regardless,” Hermione said carefully, changing tack, “It is extremely difficult to get through the crowd while they are acting up like that. Humour me and let me apparate us. It is a short distance and a one-off, it will be fine.”

“Fine,” Fleur replied, “Just this once.”

Hermione smiled, bowing slightly and offering her hand chivalrously to Fleur. She was joking around by hamming it up. She was relieved when it brought a rare smile to Fleur’s face. The blonde took her hand and Hermione dutifully apparated them.

When they arrived outside the Healers’ office, Fleur didn’t let go of Hermione’s hand. Hermione inwardly smiled, not letting go either. She contentedly walked into the offices hand in hand with Fleur.

Fantail was already in the waiting room as they arrived, flitting about energetically.

“Ah! Ladies!” Fantail greeted, “Come on through! I’m running ahead of schedule.”

Hermione followed him, leading Fleur along by the hand. Fleur seemed even quieter than usual.

“You okay?” Hermione murmured to Fleur, quiet enough that Fantail couldn’t hear.

“Fine,” Fleur replied simply.

She took her hand out of Hermione’s, going and sitting up on Fantail’s small medical bed. Fantail set about his observations quickly. As usual, he alternated between quick spellwork, physical examination, and scribbling on his clipboard.

“Remarkable,” Fantail commented, “Just remarkable. You have absolutely turned the corner. You and the baby are the healthiest I have ever seen. Whatever you did, keep doing it!”

“That is fantastic news,” Hermione exclaimed, smiling broadly. She looked at Fleur, who had a small smile on her face.

Fantail finished up quickly and soon Hermione was stepping out on the street with Fleur. Fleur seemed on edge, watching each pedestrian that passed them carefully. Hermione surmised she must be anxious after what had happened at Gringotts.

“I don’t have anything else to do for the day,” Hermione said as casually as she could, “I could walk you home if you want?”

“If you want to,” Fleur said dismissively, although Hermione swore she could see the blonde’s shoulders relax.

They walked for a little while together, Fleur’s heels clicking on the cobbled streets.

Finally, Hermione decided to break the silence.

“Do you want to talk about—“

“Non,” Fleur cut her off curtly.

“Oh, come on, Fleur,” Hermione reasoned, deciding to implement her plan to be bolder with the blonde, “I can tell you are bothered by what happened earlier.”

Fleur shot Hermione a sideways glance.

“Has anyone ever told you how pesky you are?” Fleur asked. Hermione snorted.

“Pesky?!” Hermione exclaimed, amused, “I bring you weird snacks when you crave them, I cuddle you to make sure you get enough sleep, I take you to your appointments… I do nice things for you!”

“Mn, so does a puppy, but it doesn’t make it any less annoying and clumsy,” Fleur grumbled.

“You think of me as a puppy?” Hermione asked, quirking an eyebrow, “Does that mean you think I’m cute?”

Fleur’s eyes widened slightly and a light blush appeared at her cheeks.

“Oh, of course not,” Fleur muttered awkwardly. Hermione felt her hopes raise a little. It appeared being a little bolder did garner the results she wanted.

They had reached Fleur’s apartment building and were walking to Fleur’s door.

“Are you going to teach our baby about his Veela lineage?” Hermione asked cautiously. She noticed Fleur stiffen a little.

“I’m sure my Grandmere will insist upon it,” Fleur replied neutrally.

“But you don’t want to?” Hermione pushed.

Fleur sighed heavily, jangling her keys and opening her door. Hermione thought she would simply slip into her apartment to avoid the question but she lingered.

“He is a boy, he will not have the thrall,” Fleur said gently, “Which is for the best, really.”

“You don’t want to tell him about his heritage?” Hermione pressed again.

Fleur looked increasingly uncomfortable. Her demeanor was becoming icier by the second. She cut an intimidating figure when she was cold, but Hermione inwardly repeated the advice Alexandre had told her: not to let Fleur scare her off.

Hermione stood her ground, keeping her face impassive.

It seemed to pay off. Fleur sighed.

“I don’t,” Fleur replied, “It is not a part of myself I like talking about in any great detail. I’m not putting down Veela, of course. I turned out quite well despite my heritage, in fact.”

“Despite?” Hermione felt a wave of sympathy.

  
Society seemed to be pushing Fleur to reject her heritage more and more, despite Cassandra and Apolline’s encouragement to be proud of it.

Fleur seemed so vulnerable all of a sudden. Her hair was falling out of its once impeccable ponytail and her eyes were swirling with emotion.

Hermione stepped forward, barely even noticing her own actions. She reached up and tucked loose strands of Fleur’s silky hair behind her ear.

“You’re amazing, not _despite_ of your heritage, but because of it,” Hermione said gently, “It is just one of the many brilliant parts of you that make you who you are.”

Fleur’s eyebrows raised and the slight blush rose in her cheeks again.

“Uh, merci, Hermione,” Fleur replied.

Hermione stepped back, a little startled at just how bold she could be when she let go.

“You shouldn’t feel bad about it,” Hermione added, rubbing the back of her neck and looking down. She had felt a tension between them, she was sure of it.

“I’ll see you tonight,” Fleur smiled, genuinely.

“Yes,” Hermione smiled back.

Fleur stepped into her apartment and shut the door behind her.


	13. Chapter 13

Hermione got home to Grimmauld Place, feeling on top of the world for cheering Fleur up. Maybe she could do a great job of supporting Fleur and the baby.

“Hey ‘Mione! Back from seeing your baby-mumma?” Ginny greeted Hermione tipsily.

Ginny, Luna, Harry and Ron were lounging around the living room, sharing a few beers.

“Hey—“ Hermione started defensively, before realizing that, yes, that was literally what she had been doing, “Yeah, I was with Fleur. We had another check up and things are going really well.”

She smiled, which in turn seemed to boost the spirits of her tipsy friends.

“Good work, Hermione!” Harry congratulated her, standing up unsteadily and clapping her on the shoulder.

Hermione chuckled at her sozzled best friend.

“Thanks, Harry,” Hermione smiled.

Ron stood up, coming to join them, grinning widely.

“I think you need to be recognized as being the ‘Best Baby-Daddy,’ ‘Mione,” Ron giggled, looking mischievous, “How about I just spell that on to your leather jacket here?”

“No, Ron,” Hermione sighed, as Ron drunkenly took out his wand.

“Nah, just a cheeky little patch here,” Ron insisted, gesturing his wand towards the shoulder of Hermione’s jacket, “You’ll look cool, like a wholesome biker.”

“Rooon!” Hermione warned, putting her hand up to try and stop the redhead, “This is my favourite jacket! Don’t ruin it!”

“It’s not ruining it, it’s _improving_ it!” Ron explained, beginning to wave his wand.

Hermione wasn’t about to wait to see how Ron’s drunken spellwork worked out on her favourite jacket. She quickly withdrew her wand.

“Expelliarmus,” Hermione said calmly.

Instead of the usual arc out of his hand that the spell should have created, Ron’s wand absolutely flew out of his hand, shooting out a nearby window and shattering the glass.

“Wha? _Blimey_ Hermione!” Ron exclaimed.

“I’ve never seen an expelliarmus quite that powerful before,” Luna commented.

Hermione was surprised. She hadn’t put any particular effort into it.

“Woah, I’m so sorry guys,” Hermione said, stunned, “Accio Ron’s wand.”

Usually an accio took a few moments, as the requested item would need to be summoned by the magic and then carried over to the spell-caster. However, in the blink of an eye, Ron’s wand was in Hermione’s hand.

This garnered an excited response from Hermione’s intoxicated friends, who all shouted in surprise.

“How did you do that?!” Ron shouted, a little too loud for Hermione’s sober ears, “Can you teach me?!”

“Shush, Ron,” Hermione said irritably, handing him back his wand, “I haven’t the foggiest. If you could stop bellowing for a moment I could think.”

“Have you been working out?” Ginny suggested. Hermione snorted.

“How on Earth would that affect my magical core?” Hermione said, grinning again.

Ginny shrugged.

“I dunno, just an option,” Ginny said, grinning too.

“Ooh, maybe it’s that superhuman strength mothers get,” Harry speculated wildly, “Y’know, ‘Mione? The Muggle stories about women that can suddenly lift a car to save their kid?”

“No way,” Ron interjected, “Those stories were clearly from Muggles that had seen a witch using some kind of super strength spell.”

“Nah uh,” Harry countered, his drunkenness giving him a childish petulance. His raven hair was messier than usual, sticking up more on one side than the other. His round glasses were slightly askew.

“Uh huh,” Ron insisted, shoving Harry playfully. He, too, looked untidy. His shirt was half untucked and his bowl of red hair was tousled.

Hermione sighed, sometimes it was like she was living with children. She cast a spell to fix the window before considering what to do about her tipsy friends.

“How about you all head out to a pub or something?” Hermione suggested, “We can discuss the magic thing later. Right now I would rather set up something nice for dinner for Fleur.”

Ginny and Ron giggled in unison, their family resemblance never more striking.

“Ooh, I see how it is,” Ginny teased, “Say no more… We’ll get dinner out while we’re at it.”

She winked very obviously at Hermione. Ron grinned his head off like an idiot. Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Right, well, thanks guys,” Hermione said, choosing to focus instead on the fact that at least they would get out of her hair before they became even more of a handful.

The gang stumbled to their feet, finishing their bottles of beer before over-enthusiastically hugging Hermione goodbye.

“Yep, guys, again you’re only going to be gone for a few hours… No need to— _urk!”_ Hermione started patiently, before Ron wrapped her in a bone-crushing hug.

“Good luck with your baby-mumma,” Ron grinned, releasing her.

“Yeah, good luck!” Harry agreed, shooting Hermione an encouraging double thumbs-up.

Ginny and Luna chimed in with their own well wishes.

Hermione sighed heavily. They could all be total idiots, but they were _her_ total idiots.

“Thanks guys,” Hermione muttered reluctantly, “Now, shoo!”

She watched with a faint smile on her face as they all finally sloped off out the door of Grimmauld Place.

Now she could finally get to organizing a dinner to finish off cheering up Fleur.

* * *

Hermione stepped out to meet Fleur at the door as soon as she heard her arrive. She had been waiting impatiently for the blonde to show.

“Salut,” Fleur greeted, smiling slightly.

“Hey, Fleur,” Hermione greeted, holding her hands behind her back.

Fleur cocked her head to one side, her eyes scanning the room.

“It is quiet… Suspiciously so,” Fleur commented, “Where are the boys you live with?”

“Out for the night,” Hermione responded, “It’s just us for dinner.”

“Oh, okay,” Fleur replied simply, looking at Hermione with slight curiosity.

Hermione stretched out her arm, gesturing towards the dining room doorway across the room.

“After you, mademoiselle,” Hermione said, a coy smile playing at her lips. Fleur smiled, confused, and stepped ahead of Hermione, gliding across the room.

Hermione walked behind her, hoping that Fleur would appreciate the effort.

Fleur stopped as soon as she walked into the dining room.

“What is this?” Fleur asked, her azure eyes taking in the room.

Hermione had done her best to clean the dining room spotlessly. It had previously been littered with discarded Quidditch equipment and tall stacks of textbooks, all leaned precariously against walls. Trying to rid it of the distinctly ‘student’ look, Hermione had removed all her textbooks and the boys’ Quidditch gear, stuffing it all frantically into a hallway closet.

Once clear, the room had a far more elegant look. Hermione could almost imagine how grand it had been in the heyday of the Black family. She had carefully lit candles around the room, illuminating the room with a warm light. She had wiped down the polished wood of the table carefully, trying to offset the ‘pureblood prince’ vibes of the room by fixing a centerpiece of flowers in the table.

She had already set the food, charmed to stay warm (a charm that had taken her a _lot_ of time to find amongst her disorganized books, but she wouldn’t tell Fleur that).

“You had a rough day,” Hermione explained, “I thought you needed some pampering. It’s nothing over the top, but I did try to make it all a bit tidier and… _girlier_ in here for you.”

Fleur stepped forward, reaching out a slender arm to touch the flower centerpiece on the table.

“It is nice,” Fleur murmured. Hermione sighed, smiling with relief.

“Oh good,” Hermione replied, “I’m no good with flowers, really.”

“I like them,” Fleur said, smiling, “What is this one?”

She brushed her fingertips against a cloud of small white flowers.

“Gypsophila,” Hermione smiled, “Also referred to as baby’s breath. I picked that one because of an old fairy tale I dug up of the discovery of the first Veela. They found the Veela in Eastern Europe, walking amongst gypsophila. The sight took the breath away of the humans that came across them.”

“I have heard that tale,” Fleur replied.

“Here, take a seat,” Hermione pulled back a chair for Fleur. She didn’t want to linger on the topic of Veela for too long. She had made her point earlier with the blonde, and didn’t want to force it further.

Fleur smiled, accepting Hermione’s chivalrous gesture and taking a seat. Hermione draped a cloth napkin over Fleur’s lap as Fleur’s attention turned to the steaming food in front of her. Hermione swept around to the other side of the table, taking her own seat.

“Bouillabaisse?” Fleur asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Two reasons for that,” Hermione smiled, “One—you were right when you said Marseille is amazing for seafood. After staying at your parents’ place I started craving this dish. Two—this is the topic of our first ever conversation.”

“Really?” Fleur asked, scrunching her face up adorably as she tried to recall.

“You had recently arrived at Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament. You approached Harry, Ron and I and requested the bouillabaisse at our table,” Hermione explained with a grin, “I thought you were truly dreadful.”

“Dreadful!” Fleur let out a loud peal of laughter, amused.

“Yes! You had such a painfully proud air about you!” Hermione joined in laughing, “Not to mention you were drop dead gorgeous. Half the school was staring at you slack-jawed and you seemed to know it, too.”

Fleur shrugged.

“The thrall,” Fleur replied, a hint of distaste in her voice.

“But also that ego,” Hermione teased. Fleur grinned.

“You don’t seem to mind my ego now,” Fleur chuckled.

“It’s growing on me, I admit,” Hermione smiled.

They both dived into their food, eating for a while in contented silence.

“This tastes very good, Hermione,” Fleur commented, “I didn’t know you were such a good cook. Otherwise I would have insisted on you coming to _cook_ me food instead of just bringing it to me.”

“You’re even more of a princess when you’re pregnant, you know that, right?” Hermione teased. Fleur laughed.

“I’m pregnant, I’m allowed,” Fleur said with a playful pout. Hermione grinned.

“You know, it’s nice seeing you smile and laugh,” Hermione commented, “Sometimes you seem a little…”

“Cold?” Fleur asked, “People say that a lot.”

“I was going to say unhappy,” Hermione finished.

Fleur frowned, cocking her head to one side. Hermione worried for a moment that she had triggered Fleur’s temper. But Fleur seemed to grow thoughtful, chewing on her lip. It seemed like she was processing Hermione’s words, but deciding carefully on her response. Or at least that was Hermione’s impression. Fleur was still horrendously difficult to read.

“Perhaps that is just because you don’t know me well,” Fleur replied eventually, her voice neutral.

Hermione could grant her that, but she still stood by her assessment that Fleur was unhappy. She harboured such shame around her creature heritage and kept to herself apart from Bill.

“I’d like to get to know you better,” Hermione said.

Fleur looked down, playing with her food.

“What do you want to know?” Fleur asked quietly. Hermione was surprised by how vulnerable the blonde sounded.

“You… You were always surrounded by people at Hogwarts. Absolutely intimidating large groups of girls… But now when I see you, you’re always on your own or just with Bill,” Hermione said, “Why is that?”

“I related to them easily,” Fleur shrugged.

She seemed intent on just leaving it at that, but Hermione watched her carefully, silently encouraging her to continue.

  
Fleur sighed temperamentally.

“In France, it is not uncommon to have some creature blood in you,” Fleur said, “There is no real shame. Look how at ease Gabrielle is.”

“In Britain it is different?” Hermione asked. She leaned forward a little in her curiosity.

Fleur looked down.

“I almost was not able to come for the Triwizard Tournament,” Fleur admitted, “Veela are classed as Dangerous Creatures and must register with the government here. It caused a lot of paperwork for Madame Maxime to get myself and the other students with creature heritage there.”

“Oh… I didn’t realize that,” Hermione said slowly. She felt a little stupid. She studied policy so intently, she should have also studied current laws as hard.

“I didn’t realize what it was like until I got here, either,” Fleur replied, “The whispers behind hands, that awful Skeeter woman saying awful things about my heritage in the _Prophet_ , it was a lot to suddenly deal with.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. She had been so distracted with the brutal publicity that she, Harry and Viktor had got that she had never even paid attention to the similar scrutiny that Fleur and Cedric had been under. She had vague memories of them also having unflattering stories posted, but she had never bothered to read them at the time.

“I’m sorry…” Hermione said slowly, “But, if you don’t mind me asking, if it is worse here than it is in France—why did you come back?”

Fleur’s eyes flicked up to meet Hermione’s. Hermione felt her breath catch in her throat at the pure intensity in Fleur’s azure gaze.

“The Order of the Phoenix,” Fleur replied simply, “It was here that the frontline of the fight against Voldemort would be fought. I wanted to help.”

“Now it’s over,” Hermione pointed out, “Couldn’t you return?”

Fleur sighed, flipping her silky blonde hair over her shoulder.

“I met Bill while I was with the Order of the Phoenix and working together at Gringotts,” Fleur explained, “He helped me with my English and I helped him with his- rather sloppy- spellwork.”

Hermione suppressed a giggle, her memory turning back to a time in class where she had had to help Ron with a sloppy execution of a Wingardium Leviosa spell.

“And?” Hermione asked, eager for Fleur to continue.

“And Fenrir Greyback happened,” Fleur replied, “After the war, Bill was informed that he was now classed as a Dangerous Creature. He had to register with the Ministry for the sake of public safety.”

“Oh,” Hermione felt a surge of sympathy for Bill.

“Oui,” Fleur replied, “He had gone from a pureblood wizard in society to a part-creature overnight. I stayed to help him through all the paperwork, then we became even better friends. I can’t imagine going back to France and leaving him behind now.”

“So he’s kind of the reason you’re still here post-war?” Hermione surmised. Inwardly, she realized she had a lot more to thank Bill for than she had initially thought.

Fleur nodded.

“I suppose so,” Fleur replied, “I really like working at Gringotts, too. Of course, this is another reason as well,” she patted her stomach, “It seems better to remain in the same country as the other parent.”

“Oh, good, I’m glad you think that,” Hermione replied, her mind now turning to their baby. Fleur smiled coyly.

“Well, I couldn’t let you get out of your share of diaper-changing,” Fleur teased.

Hermione scoffed.

“I predict _you_ will be the one trying to wriggle out of that, Delacour,” Hermione shot back. Fleur cocked an eyebrow.

“Really?”

“ _Really!_ ” Hermione insisted, “You are such a princess! I can’t imagine you changing a baby!”

Fleur gasped overdramatically, putting a hand up to her mouth. Hermione giggled.

“Excusez moi?” Fleur replied, “I am the first to roll my sleeves up and get dirty.”

Hermione cursed her mind for coming up with about a million inappropriate suggestions for Fleur ‘getting dirty,’ focusing instead at the conversation at hand.

“So… I do think it would be nice if you moved in here with me,” Hermione said carefully, “I really like looking after you and the baby… It would easier to do that if we lived together. Plus, you stay here every night anyway.”

Fleur looked thoughtful, having the last of her bouillabaisse as she thought.

Hermione got up, clearing the plates. As Fleur continued to sit in pensive silence, Hermione decided to use her secret weapon. She whipped a cloth off two plates, revealing a delicious chocolate tart topped with strawberries. She picked them up, depositing one in front of Fleur and sitting down with her plate.

Fleur’s eyes lit up. She was practically salivating in front of Hermione.

“How did you…” Fleur said slowly, staring at the dessert.

“I may have called your father and asked what your favourite dessert is,” Hermione shrugged, diving in to her own dessert, “Cassandra jumped on the line at the end and told me Veela love strawberries, so they’re an add-on.”

Fleur excitedly dove into her dessert, pausing to look up at Hermione, a little defensive.

“I am only a quarter Veela,” Fleur replied. Hermione quirked a smile.

“Yet you’re eating those strawberries rather quickly,” Hermione teased. Fleur pouted.

“I’ll move in,” Fleur said, taking another bite of her dessert.

“Fantastic,” Hermione beamed.

“On one condition—“ Fleur interjected. Hermione’s smile faltered and she rolled her eyes.

“Why am I surprised?” Hermione said, half joking.

“I get to redecorate our room,” Fleur said, inclining her head and drawing her shoulders back haughtily.

“I… Redecorate… _Our_ room?” Hermione inwardly cursed as her impressive brain short-circuited.

“Well, oui,” Fleur replied, continuing with her dessert, “We sleep in the same bed. So same room, oui?”

Hermione nodded dumbly.

She had originally thought that Fleur would have her own room and stay with her only at night when they slept. But this idea made her feel warm inside. They would be sharing quarters properly… _‘like a family,’_ Hermione’s mind finished for her.

“Well, okay then,” Hermione said, smiling again. She just hoped she wasn’t letting her hopes get too high.

“Merci,” Fleur replied, “You can get my things after dinner.”

“I can—?!“ Hermione spluttered, “Merlin, you _are_ a princess!”

Fleur smirked.

“So you say!” Fleur giggled, “In return, I will do the dishes for you.”

Hermione sighed. She supposed that was a fair enough trade. A part of her quite liked the idea of Fleur safe and warm at home, doing the dishes while Hermione braved the cold night to get everything in order.

When they finished dinner, Fleur stuck to her word, clearing the plates. Hermione smiled at her, heading off to Fleur’s apartment.

Hermione felt a little odd arriving in the apartment. It was strange being there without Fleur. She grabbed a trunk that was leaning against a wall and opened it. She weighed up whether or not to use magic. Using magic would just cram absolutely everything in there. If she went by hand, she might be able to be more discerning in what she packed for the blonde.

She pulled open the first drawer she saw, blushing horrifically as she saw nothing but incredibly skimpy lingerie.

“Magic it is,” Hermione mumbled to herself, rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly.

“Accio Fleur’s clothes,” Hermione said, not even thinking.

_Crash!_

Hermione was pelted with flying clothing and shoes, forgetting her magic was super-powered at the moment.

Hermione fell to the floor, covering her head with her arms.

When the rumbling of flying clothes died down, Hermione got up. She brushed a stray singlet off her shoulder and picked something lacy off her head. She blushed as she saw the thin lacy material of the thong in her hand, dropping it as if she had been burned. She was sure Fleur wouldn’t appreciate her handling her underwear.

Her jaw fell open as she saw the absolute mountain of clothes that had now entirely obscured the trunk.

_‘How is it possible for one woman to have so many clothes?’_ Hermione stared in wonderment.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. This might take a little more effort than she originally thought.

* * *

Hermione got home later, pleased to see that the boys, Ginny and Luna had not returned yet.

Ducking into the kitchen, she was surprised to see it even more spotless than usual.

She ducked out again, taking the stairs two at a time. She burst into her bedroom, pausing mid-way through taking Fleur’s shrunken suitcase out of her pocket.

“Fleur… What have you done with my room?” Hermione asked slowly. She was in shock.

She hadn’t done anything to the shabby Grimmauld Place bedroom when she had got it. It was nice enough, with bookshelves for her books, a generous wardrobe and a large four-poster bed. Not to mention the comfy furniture cozily placed in front of the fireplace. She had simply added a desk in one corner of the room. Over time, her parchments, quills, ink and many stray books had built up around the edges of the room. She had been meaning to clear them, but never really had reason to.

Now, however, her room was entirely transformed. Fresh, stylish wallpaper adorned the walls. The thick and dusty velvet curtains had been replaced with new grey curtains. A nice rug was in front of the fireplace and the hearth above it was cleared except for a few ornaments and vases of flowers. There were pot plants around the room. The bedding had entirely changed to fresh white linen. Hermione even noticed the thickly carpeted floor was now pretty hardwood floor.

Fleur was sitting up in bed, nude. She was propped up by some of the dozens of cushions that had now been added, reading a book. She glanced up, looking very much like the cat that had got the cream.

“Oh, this?” Fleur asked innocently, “I love studying interior design magic in my spare time. I was quite limited in what I could do with no resources and little time, though. But this will do for now.”

“This will—What?! Where are my books and papers?!” Hermione spluttered, looking around the room wildly, “You’ve made it all… Grown up and girly in here!”

“Well, you are a girl and you are very much grown up, non?” Fleur replied simply, flipping the page of her book, “Your books are back in their appropriate spot in the bookshelves and your papers are in your desk drawers. No need to panic.”

“Well… Very well then,” Hermione said, not entirely convinced at the drastic makeover her room had undertaken.

She un-shrunk Fleur’s trunk and put it against a wall.

Grumbling under her breath, she glanced at Fleur to make sure she wasn’t looking, then quickly changed into a tee and boxers for bed.

As she climbed into bed, Fleur put her book down on her bedside table, grinning at her.

“You know it looks better in here now,” Fleur teased.

“Maybe, but it looked fine before,” Hermione grumbled, settling down into the bed.

Fleur turned off the light, shuffling down in the bed and wrapping her arms around Hermione. She settled her head on Hermione’s chest.

“I think you like it,” Fleur said in the dark. Hermione could hear the smile in her voice. Inwardly, her stomach had a nice warm feeling at having Fleur so happy and content.

“Such a high maintenance woman,” Hermione sighed, “Needing to entirely re-design a place before moving in.”

“I had a really good time tonight,” Fleur said, causing Hermione’s stomach to flip, “Thank you.”

Hermione smiled in the darkness.

Fleur wriggled against her and Hermione felt soft lips kiss her cheek before Fleur settled her head back down on her chest.

Hermione was grateful for the dark as she grinned her head off, a faint blush on her face.


	14. Chapter 14

Hermione was late for class, frantically looking about the room.

“Fleur, where is my satchel?” Hermione asked, pulling on a jean jacket over her white tee. She had already pulled on some black jeans and her converse and was otherwise ready to go.

“You haven’t even looked at me this morning,” Fleur grumbled, buttoning up a dress.

“Fleur—I’m serious, I’m never late! Where is it?” Hermione asked, falling to her hands and knees to peek under the bed. It was immaculate under there. No satchel to be seen.

“Is it because I am repulsive?” Fleur asked, frowning at her reflection and grabbing her stomach with both hands, “I am so enormous.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Fleur,” Hermione said, getting back to her feet and checking around her desk for the third time, “You look breathtaking. Merlin, if I can’t find my satchel…”

“It’s in your side of the wardrobe,” Fleur replied, her frown fading as she began to brush her hair.

Hermione ran to the wardrobe, pulling the door open. She noticed that ‘her side’ was in fact half taken up by an overflow of Fleur’s clothing. Her annoyance was paused as she saw her satchel on the floor of the wardrobe.

Hermione beamed with relief, yanking it out and pulling it on her shoulder. If she absolutely sprinted, she might be able to get to class on time.

She hurried across the room.

Fleur was near the door, still brushing her hair in front of the mirror.

“Okay-gotta-go-have-a-good-day” Hermione rushed, leaning forward without even thinking and pecking Fleur on the lips before hurrying out the door. Fleur paused, mild surprise on her face.

As Hermione shut the door behind her, she froze in the hallway realizing what she had just done.

“Oh… Merlin…” Hermione groaned. She leaned against the hallway wall, banging her head against it lightly.

It had been some weird force of habit. They had already fallen into such a domestic dynamic it had felt natural to kiss Fleur goodbye.

Hermione scrunched her eyes shut, cringing at what the blonde must be thinking. At least she hadn’t snapped at Hermione. Not that she had given her time to.

Remembering how horrifically late for class she was, Hermione buried the awkwardness for now, sprinting down the hallway and stairs.

* * *

Hermione sat in her last class of the day, scratching away her notes.

It wasn’t long until her final exams and she was getting a little anxious about how she was going to balance studying and looking after Fleur and the baby.

The class wrapped up and Hermione sighed, packing her parchment, quill and ink into her satchel.

“Hermione Granger, would you mind waiting around for a quick chat?” Professor Helios, the lecturer for the class, asked.

Hermione nodded, waiting as the other students filed out for the day. Hermione’s mind was already on home. She wondered if Fleur was going to do more redecorating of their room.

“Hermione, I was wondering if you had given any thought to where you want to focus your career after your final exams,” Helios asked.

“Isn’t that getting a little ahead of myself?” Hermione asked, quirking a brow, “I’m sure many jobs are dependent on what type of marks you get in the final exams.”

Helios chuckled.

“I think we both know you aren’t going to struggle with getting exemplary marks,” Helios said with a smile, “I have some colleagues from the Ministry who are already interested in taking you on when you are done with your studies. What kind of area would you like to work in?”

“Magical Creature policy,” Hermione replied confidently, “It has always been an area of interest for me, but just recently I realized how much further we have to go in terms of protecting creatures and those with creature blood.”

“You’d be a real asset there, Hermione,” Helios said with a genuine smile, “One of my interested colleagues does work in that area. I’ll be sure to reach out and let him know it is an area of interest for you.”

“Thanks, Professor,” Hermione smiled, nodding farewell.

She headed out the door and was on her way out of the campus when she was accosted by a familiar blonde and redhead.

“Hey, ‘Mione,” Luna greeted dreamily. Ginny and Luna fell into step with Hermione.

“Heard a certain blonde bombshell moved in with you,” Ginny commented with a grin, “Things getting serious then?”

“God, Ron really needs to stop gossiping,” Hermione groaned. Ginny elbowed her.

“Or you just need to get more into gossiping yourself,” Ginny smiled, “So seriously… What is going on with Fleur?”

“What makes you think anything could be going on with Fleur?” Hermione asked defensively.

“The fact she is carrying your child is a good start,” Luna replied, “There was obviously chemistry there at some point. Now you’re living together… Well… It would only be a matter of time, right?”

“Oh… Hush…” Hermione bumbled, grimacing.

Ginny exchanged an amused look with Luna.

“I detect a ‘Hermione freakout’…” Ginny grinned widely, “Something happened already, didn’t it?”

“Barely anything,” Hermione mumbled, blushing.

“That means _something_ ,” Luna nodded at Ginny.

“I kissed her, okay?!” Hermione yelped, “I was in a rush, running out the door, and I did it without even thinking.”

“Aww, Hermione,” Luna said, “You are so sweet!”

Hermione frowned.

“Stop it!” Hermione whined, embarrassed and blushing.

Luna and Ginny giggled at the expense of their embarrassed friend.

“You’re quite cute when you’re all embarrassed over a girl,” Ginny commented, “I’ve never seen this side of you before Fleur and Amelie!”

“Yeah, well, at least Amelie never made me feel terrified,” Hermione said, rubbing the back of her neck, “Have you ever seen a pissed off Veela before?”

“Was she quite angry when you kissed her?” Luna asked, cocking her head to one side.

“I… er… I don’t know…” Hermione admitted, “It all happened so fast… I realized once I was already out the door.”

“Ohhh… Hermione!” both Hermione’s friends groaned in unison.

“What?!” Hermione exclaimed defensively, “I was late for class!”

“Typical,” Ginny scoffed, “Well… As long as you bring it up and don’t just do that Hermione thing of avoiding talking about feelings.”

“Whatever,” Hermione said brusquely, “I need to get home.”

“To talk?” Luna suggested.

Hermione sighed heavily.

“One day one of you will get tangled up with someone and then I can repay the favour for all this needling me,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes at her friends, “See you around.”

She apparated on the spot, waving goodbye to her tiresome friends. They were great, but Merlin they knew how to get under her skin.

She landed on the doorstep of Grimmauld Place, cringing a little as she opened the door. She wondered if Fleur would be mad at her.

“Hermione!” Ron greeted, coming over to see her at the door.

“Er, hello?” Hermione greeted, confused that he would meet her at the door as she arrived.

“Look at this place!” Ron exclaimed, gesturing around wildly.

Hermione stepped in, her jaw slackening at the huge makeover that Grimmauld Place had undertaken.

Wooden floors were exposed and polished. Furniture had either been reupholstered or replaced. Rugs had been cleaned impeccably and curtains replaced. Grimmauld Place had gone from looking like a derelict grand house to… Well, just a grand house. It was fashionable and clean… There was even natural light! There were many tasteful vases full of flowers. Plants littered the room, brightening up the once dark interior.

“I think it looks quite good,” Harry said. He was standing in the middle of the living room, scratching his head as he looked around, “If a bit girly.” 

“Quite good?!” Ron exclaimed, looking around in shock, “What happened to the muddy patch in the rug from the night I scored our prizewinning goal at Quidditch?! Memories! Totally erased!”

“Well, more of the Black family memories erased too, which is a good thing,” Harry shrugged, “Now I feel like I can just remember Sirius for who he was, not his messed up family.”

“Mate, are you serious?” Ron intoned in disbelief, “Aren’t you even concerned about where our Quidditch gear is? It’s _always_ leaning against the wall by the door.”

“It is in the hallway closet,” Fleur announced silkily, gliding into the room, “Where it should be. You should also consider cleaning your things. They are caked in mud.”

“O-OH,” Ron stammered, surprised by the intimidating blonde, “Er, thanks, Fleur. Looks lovely in here.”

“I thought I agreed to let you redecorate my room,” Hermione commented, smiling at Fleur, “Not the entire house?”

“I got home from work early,” Fleur shrugged, “Hermione, my parents wanted to catch up with us. Could we call them from our room?”

“Sure,” Hermione replied, following the blonde as she swept off again.

“Bloody cozy, aren’t they?” Ron muttered as they left.

Hermione followed Fleur up the stairs and to their room, trying not to stare at Fleur’s long, toned legs in front of her.

When they got in the room, Hermione noticed that the once-bare walls now had some tasteful art hanging from the walls. Fleur had evidently been quite busy with her interior design.

Fleur sat on the edge of the bed.

Hermione bit her lip, surmising that Fleur wasn’t going to bring up the kissing faux pas at all. She came and sat beside the blonde, pulling out her phone and quickly video calling Alexandre. Fleur looked fascinated, but quickly set her face to neutral.

“Hello Hermione! Hello my darling Fleur!” Alexandre greeted regally as his face appeared on the screen of the phone. Hermione was holding the phone out so he could see them both, but Fleur still shuffled closer to her to be in the picture.

“Alexandre?” Apolline’s voice sounded in the background, asking a question in French.

Alexandre laughed jovially.

“No, no, dear, this is not a photo I am talking to,” Alexandre said, wiggling the phone a little, “I am video chatting on the phone like I told you about.”

“Ooh!” Apolline’s face appeared on screen, practically shunting Alexandre out of the way, “Hello, girls!”

“Hello Maman,” Fleur greeted.

“How are you girls?” Apolline greeted, “I was glad to hear the scan went so well! It just goes to show sleeping with your woman does you the world of good!”

Fleur scoffed and rolled her eyes. Hermione smiled politely.

“I am well,” Fleur replied, “I have moved in with Hermione so I have been busy making her place look presentable.”

It was Hermione’s turn to scoff and roll her eyes. Fleur’s parents looked amused.

“How are you, Hermione?” Alexandre asked, “Well, I hope!”

“Well, yes,” Hermione replied, “I’m heading towards my final course exams, which is stressful but exciting. There is something weird happening with my magic though. Spells I cast are far too strong.”

“Maman!” Apolline shouted suddenly, startling Hermione and Fleur.

Cassandra’s face appeared, wedging herself between Alexandre and Apolline.

“Salut, girls,” Cassandra greeted with her usual hypnotic smile, “What is going on?”

“Hermione’s magic is suddenly too strong,” Apolline explained, exchanging meaningful glances with Alexandre.

“Oh!” Cassandra grinned proudly, as if Hermione had announced some exciting news to the group.

“Erm… Is there something I am missing here?” Hermione asked, confused. Fleur had stiffened beside her and was incredibly quiet.

Cassandra smiled reassuringly.

“It is not for us to say, child,” Cassandra cooed, “It is for Fleur to tell you in her own time. Ah, Fleur, I am so proud of you. I always knew the blood bloomed strongly within you! A quarter-Veela having this happen, can you believe it Apolline?”

Apolline clapped her hands together, looking positively gleeful.

“Just tell her, Fleur!” Apolline encouraged.

“I’m only a quarter-Veela,” Fleur snapped, “None of this Veela drama applies to me!”

“It isn’t _drama_ ,” Cassandra hissed, her facial features growing distinctly more avian and her eyes silvery, “You cannot run from your blood, Fleur.”

Fleur paled, looking very much afraid of further angering her grandmother.

“Erm, I think the connection here is bad…” Fleur blurted, before swiping the phone out of Hermione’s hands and pressing the large red hang-up button.

“Fleur!” Hermione admonished, “They were just trying to get you to be less self-conscious about your Veela blood! And what is it Cassandra said you will be telling me?”

Fleur looked caught, her azure eyes roaming everywhere around the room except for Hermione.

“I’m more self-conscious about my pot belly,” Fleur said suddenly, semi-changing the subject. Hermione put her hand on Fleur’s protruding stomach.

“Fleur, it isn’t a pot belly, it is a pregnancy belly,” Hermione assured, “And either way you still look stunning.”

“You still think I am attractive?” Fleur asked neutrally.

Hermione felt the tips of her ears burn.

“Er, yeah, very,” Hermione admitted. If Cassandra could see her and her Gryffindor bravery now, there was no way the Veela could accuse her of not being bold.

Fleur was still sitting very close to her and it was taking all of Hermione’s inner nerve not to be thrown by the close proximity. Fleur was frowning and Hermione could tell the blonde’s temper was about to flare again. Hermione had half a mind to call Fleur’s family back and make them suffer the hormonal Veela they had upset.

“I don’t know why everyone is always focusing on me and my pitfalls,” Fleur grumbled, “I’m not the only one with problems.”

“I know, Fleur,” Hermione said dutifully, hoping to placate the blonde.

“You’re self-conscious too!” Fleur shot back, “You still can’t even get changed if I’m looking!”

“I…” Hermione was flustered by the sudden attention on her flaws, “Thi-this isn’t about me.”

“Why must I be the one constantly poked and prodded and under the microscope?” Fleur complained, “Why are you never the one that has to work on themselves and undergo constant assessments?”

“Uh…” Hermione didn’t know what to say, “I’m sorry you feel like that.”

“Why don’t you trust me to see the scars?” Fleur continued her rage, “I’ve seen them before, the night we made love. I’ve seen them fresh, when I nursed you back to health at Shell Cottage? Must you treat me like some dangerous creature that might tear you to shreds at any moment?!”

Hermione’s jaw fell open. She had no idea that Fleur had felt that way.

“I… I don’t think like that…” Hermione said slowly, “I don’t think you will hurt me! My scars are _my_ hang up. I don’t know why I feel so self-conscious about them. Enough people have seen the _Mudblood_ one on my arm, I should be fine with people seeing the entirety of them.”

Fleur seemed to have got her venting out of her system, her eyes still stormy but her face more relaxed.

“I just want you to trust me,” Fleur said softly, “It is hard for me to have to work on trusting you, when I don’t see you reciprocating that.”

Hermione bit her lip. She stood up from the bed and took her denim jacket off.

“What are you doing?” Fleur asked, watching Hermione.

“Getting changed before we head down for dinner,” Hermione replied, “I just happen to feel like getting into something more comfortable.”

She bit her lip and took a deep breath.

  
“Hermione, you don’t have to—“

“I want to,” Hermione silenced the blonde.

Summoning all of her Gryffindor courage, Hermione pulled her tee up and over her head. Before she could chicken out, she tossed her tee down on the floor. She undid her jeans and shoes and took them off.

She had scrunched her eyes shut with anxiety, but opened them to see Fleur’s reaction. Fleur’s eyes had widened slightly, but she didn’t look disgusted or horrified as Hermione had feared.

Hermione looked down at her body. White scars tattooed her body. Bellatrix had really gone crazy with her cursed blade at Malfoy Manor.

Hermione hated it, but there was nothing she could do about it.

“You look… magnifique,” Fleur said softly. Her eyes were roaming Hermione’s underwear clad body. Hermione wondered if she was imagining a kind of hunger in Fleur’s eyes. Surely…

“You don’t… You don’t have anything else to say?” Hermione couldn’t believe that after all her anxiety, Fleur wasn’t even shocked to see the scars.

“Well,” Fleur looked awkward, like she didn’t quite want to say what she was thinking.

Hermione’s stomach dropped.

“Yeah?”

“Well… I did just clean the room,” Fleur said slowly, “So if you could clean up those clothes you tossed on the floor…”

Hermione snorted, pleasantly surprised at the blonde’s comment. It felt like a weight she had been carrying for years had fallen off her shoulders.

Hermione picked up her clothes, putting them away in her wardrobe. She wondered if it was too soon after Fleur’s temper flare to bring up how much wardrobe space the blonde was taking up. Deciding not to tempt fate, Hermione just took out a long-sleeved tee and sweatpants, putting them on.

She turned back to Fleur, who was now standing by the door.

“Are you going to tell me what Cassandra was talking about?” Hermione asked.

Fleur bit her lip.

“We’re late for dinner,” Fleur said quickly, “We don’t want to keep Harry and Ron waiting.”

Without another word, she swept out the door.


	15. Chapter 15

Hermione caught up with Fleur as she stepped into the living room. The blonde had frozen and suddenly doubled over, covering her mouth.

“Are you okay?” Hermione asked, concerned. Fleur was as pale as a ghost.

“Just—“ Fleur winced, “I’m going to be sick! The smell!”

She stumbled her way out the door.

Ron, dishing up dinner, looked a little hurt.

“Blimey… It’s just some roast beef,” Ron said a little defensively. Harry, standing nearby, patted his red haired mate on the shoulder.

“I’m sure it was unrelated, mate,” Harry reassured.

Hermione nodded.

“Pregnant women can get a little more sensitive to smell,” Hermione explained, “Sometimes the most unexpected things can make them feel sick. I’d better go help her.”

Hermione rushed out the door. She could hear the sound of retching coming from the downstairs bathroom and hurried to help the Frenchwoman.

She found Fleur kneeling in front of a toilet, being violently ill. Hermione came and stood behind her, holding back her hair and rubbing her back.

“Non… I am disgusting,” Fleur whimpered, before throwing up again.

“You aren’t, Fleur,” Hermione soothed, “Just get it out of your system. Don’t worry about dinner, I’ll find something plain for you later.”

Fleur whimpered some more, throwing up until her body was limp and weak.

“You get quite bad nausea, huh?” Hermione asked.

“Most days,” Fleur said weakly, “Usually during the day, though. That smell just set me off.”

Fleur got to her feet shakily, still deathly pale.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Hermione said, sweeping the blonde into her arms, bridal style.

“Hermione,” Fleur whined weakly. But Hermione could tell she wasn’t seriously protesting.

Hermione carried Fleur out of the room and up the stairs. Despite Fleur being far more pregnant than the last time Hermione had carried her, Hermione found it even easier than last time. It was as if she had gained strength without even working out.

Reaching their room, Hermione deposited Fleur on the bed.

“Merci,” Fleur replied, “I _loathe_ how nauseous this pregnancy makes me.”

“It is only temporary,” Hermione said. She went over to the windows and pulled the curtains for the blonde.

She slipped back downstairs, unsurprised to find the boys already tucking into their dinner.

“Fleur okay?” Harry asked, pausing. Ron, on the other hand, kept stuffing his face, although he was watching Hermione with mild curiosity.

“She will be,” Hermione replied, “Can you just put a plate aside for me? I’ll eat later. I just want to make sure she’s okay.”

“Sure,” Ron managed to get out from a mouth stuffed full of food.

“I’ll make sure Ron doesn’t eat it,” Harry added with a grin. Ron shoved the raven-haired boy playfully.

“Oi!”

Hermione left the boys to their play-fighting, pouring a glass of cool water. She headed back up to her room, taking out her wand and charming the water to be even icier. It would help with Fleur’s nausea.

“You’re back,” Fleur murmured, still looking quite pale.

“I couldn’t just leave you on your own while you’re ill,” Hermione replied. She came and handed Fleur the chilled water.

“Merci,” Fleur replied, sipping lightly at the water before placing it on her bedside table. She leaned back against her pillow and rested her hands on her protruding stomach.

Hermione shuffled up the bed to lie beside Fleur, putting one hand on top of her hands.

“You are doing such a good job of growing our little baby boy,” Hermione murmured soothingly. She looked up and was astonished to see Fleur had tears in her eyes. It must be the baby hormones messing with her again.

“You’re… You’re really quite supportive,” Fleur sniffled, “I have given you no reason to be so supportive. Is it just because I am carrying your baby?”

Hermione’s fingers wrapped around Fleur’s on top of her stomach.

“Not at all,” Hermione reassured, “Of course I’m protective of our baby. But, I really do care about you too.”

“Why?” Fleur asked, tears still running down her face.

Hermione leaned in closer to the blonde, feeling bad that she was upset—hormones or not. There was, as always, an underlying tension between them. There always was, whether they were bickering, teasing each other, or upset.

“I don’t quite know…” Hermione said honestly. Her face was getting quite close to Fleur’s now. She could almost count the long dark eyelashes framing Fleur’s azure eyes.

Fleur’s eyes were downcast. Hermione cupped her chin gently, raising Fleur’s face up to look directly at her. She swiped her thumb over Fleur’s cheek carefully, wiping the falling tears.

“I just… care about you,” Hermione finished. Fleur’s deep azure eyes were locked with Hermione’s own honey flecked brown ones. The tension was building between them; Hermione could feel it. If there was ever a time to be bold, now was it.

Hermione leaned in, closing the little distance left between them, and kissed Fleur. Unlike the accidental kiss of the morning, this one was intentional and gentle. All of the care and affection she had bubbling under the surface was channeled into this kiss.

It was chaste and quick, Hermione pulling back slowly after she had done it. Fleur looked a little surprised, but her tears had stopped.

“I’m sorry,” Hermione said, a little nervous now of Fleur’s reaction, “Between the accidental one this morning and just now, I can’t quite seem to stop kissing you.”

Fleur’s eyes appeared stormy again. Hermione wondered if she was imagining small flecks of silver in them.

“I really don’t mind,” Fleur said finally. She reached up and hooked a hand behind Hermione’s neck, pulling her in close again.

  
This time Fleur was the one that initiated the kiss, her soft full lips pressing against Hermione’s ones in earnest.

Hermione felt a great warmth rush through her. She had never in a million years imagined Fleur initiating a kiss with her, and especially not while sober and serious. Her stomach felt like a mass of butterflies were fluttering to get free. Her veins felt like they were pumping some kind of wonderful blood through her system. As Fleur slipped her soft tongue into Hermione’s mouth to deepen the kiss, Hermione felt like she was on top of the world. She felt whole for the first time since the war.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed. It could have easily been a second or an hour—the kiss just felt that incredible. But when Fleur finally released her and broke the kiss, Hermione stared at the beautiful creature before her, dazed. Fleur no longer looked upset. Beyond that, Hermione was unable to read.

_‘Heck, if this is the best way to cheer her up, bring it on,’_ Hermione thought giddily.

Fleur sighed and reached for the glass of water on the bedside table, sipping at it again. Hermione stared at her impassive expression. The woman’s ability to hide her emotions should be criminal. She was too much of an enigma for it to be fair.

“Erm, are we going to talk about that?” Hermione asked, breaking the silence.

“About what?” Fleur asked innocently, her eyes carefully on her glass of water. Hermione inwardly smiled at the blonde’s insistence on dodging anything possibly uncomfortable.

“You know what,” Hermione replied gently.

Fleur sighed.

“Must we overthink things?” Fleur said, turning her azure eyes back to the brunette.

Hermione shrugged.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’m pretty well known for overthinking,” Hermione joked, trying to ease the tension. It seemed to work, as the hint of a smile played at Fleur’s full lips.

“Can we talk later?” Fleur asked, “I am still feeling a little ill. I would prefer to lie down for a while.”

Hermione half wanted to push Fleur to talk, but she decided to go easy on the blonde. She clearly wasn’t adept at having difficult conversations from everything Hermione had observed so far.

“Okay,” Hermione relented, “I’ll head downstairs and have my dinner. I’ll be back soon.”

“Merci,” Fleur replied, a hint of relief in her voice.

Hermione padded out of the room, shutting the door behind her quietly. She headed downstairs, her mind absolutely whirring at what had just happened between Fleur and her.

When she got to the dining room, Harry and Ron were still there. Ron was sipping on a beer as Harry played idly with a snitch.

“Oh hey, Hermione,” Harry greeted, swiping the snitch out of the air, “I saved your dinner from Ron.”

“Saved?!” Ron scoffed, “As if I would have eaten it.”

Hermione snorted. He definitely would have eaten it.

She grabbed her plate from the countertop, coming to sit across from the boys as she ate.

Harry released the snitch, allowing it to flit around Ron’s head before swiping it from the air again.

“Not long ‘til the semester is over,” Harry said idly, releasing the snitch again, “Hard to believe it’s almost exam time. We should probably start applying for Auror jobs.”

“Probably,” Ron concurred, “Or we could start planning an epic end of semester party?”

“Ronald!” Hermione chided, “We have exams! Not to mention a pregnant woman living under our roof! It would be beyond irresponsible.”

“You’ll be fine with your exams,” Harry reassured.

“Yeah, don’t get your knickers in a twist,” Ron replied, “As if you would screw up exams. Besides, you’ve got laid at _both_ parties we’ve hosted here! You should be the last one complaining!”

“And yet I am complaining,” Hermione shot back, “Let’s all try and keep a minimum standard of commonsense.”

“Put it to a vote?” Ron suggested, smiling boyishly. Hermione groaned.

“You know I hate when we vote,” Hermione said stiffly.

“Democracy!” Ron replied, grinning wider.

“Hardly!” Hermione scoffed.

“Close enough!” Ron responded, “Okay, all those in favour of an end of studying party? Harry, take into consideration it marks the end of _ALL_ study!”

“You might decide to do study later in life!” Hermione tried. But the boys were already beyond excited at the thought of no more homework or classes. They both raised their hands.

“And all those _not_ in favour?” Ron asked, grinning at Hermione like the cat that had got the cream. Hermione raised her hand despondently.

“I hate these votes,” Hermione groaned.

She spent the rest of the evening playing Exploding Snap with the boys, appeased a little bit about the vote when Ron inadvertently singed his eyebrows. The redhead usually absolutely destroyed Harry and Hermione at games. He was a natural strategist and it drove the know-it-all part of Hermione crazy.

As soon as Ron singed his eyebrows, Hermione took her opportunity to call it a night.

“Well, I’m tired,” Hermione over-exaggerated a yawn, “I think we’ll just call it there at Ron’s loss.”

“Hey!” Ron squawked, “You always try to wriggle out whenever I lose! Where was this tiredness when you were losing and I felt sleepy?”

“What can I tell you, Ron? Seeing you lose that round so fantastically must have just taken it out of me,” Hermione shrugged with a grin.

Harry chuckled at the antics of his two best friends.

Hermione was still giggling as she finished brushing her teeth and headed into her room. The lights were out but Hermione could see well enough in the dim light to find her way to put her clothes away and change into an old tee and a pair of boxers.

She hopped into the bed, instinctively sliding over to spoon Fleur from behind.

“You smell like gunpowder,” Fleur commented in the dim light.

“Oh, sorry,” Hermione replied, “I didn’t realize you were still up. I was playing Exploding Snap with the boys.”

“And you won?” Fleur assumed.

Hermione groaned lightly, tightening her arm around Fleur and resting her hand on Fleur’s pregnant belly.

“No, but we will raise our little man to be a natural strategist… Raised from birth to take down Ron and his infuriating winning streaks,” Hermione said in a faux-sinister voice. Fleur laughed at that.

“Ron got on your nerves tonight,” Fleur commented playfully. Hermione sighed.

“He is insisting that we throw an ‘end of our studies’ party,” Hermione groaned, “I told him that we need to concentrate on exams and you’re pregnant but—“

“Ooh, magnifique! Some of my friends from France are in town!” Fleur gushed, wriggling excitedly in Hermione’s arms, “It would be the perfect opportunity to catch up with them!”

“Not you, too!” Hermione groaned before softening her tone, “Are you hungry after missing dinner?”

“Non,” Fleur said in her little haughty tone, “I am fine.”

Hermione snuggled closer with the blonde and soon they found themselves falling asleep.

Of course, it was only a few hours later when Hermione found herself being shaken awake. Hermione sat up suddenly, grabbing her wand in her sleepy reaction.

“Who? Wha?” Hermione mumbled, aiming her wand blindly into the dark.

“Hermione, it is just me,” Fleur murmured in her soothing French accent. Hermione put down her wand and rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hand, yawning.

“Oh, what is it?” Hermione asked sleepily, “Is everything okay with the baby?”

“Oui, oui,” Fleur replied, “But I am hungry Hermione.”

Hermione sighed heavily. She had enjoyed a few nights’ without Fleur’s mid-night cravings.

“I knew you shouldn’t have gone to bed without any dinner,” Hermione groaned, “What do you feel like?”

“A sandwich,” Fleur said contentedly.

“Oh,” Hermione responded, surprised, “Well that is actually quite ordinary for once—“

“With peanut butter and pickles,” Fleur interrupted.

“And there we go,” Hermione retorted, getting up with an amused smile. It was a little cold out of bed so she hurried down to the kitchen and made the sandwich as rapidly as she could before dashing back to bed.

She hopped in beside Fleur before passing the blonde the sandwich. Hermione crinkled her nose as she watched Fleur wolf it down, shutting her eyes as she savoured the strange combination.

“That can’t taste good,” Hermione frowned.

“Magnifique,” Fleur smiled, offering the last piece of the sandwich to a disgusted Hermione, “Suit yourself.”

Fleur polished off the sandwich, beaming. Hermione had to admit, the Frenchwoman looked adorable right now.

Fleur began to nestle back down into bed and shut her eyes.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” Hermione asked, outraged. Fleur peeked one eye open.

“Going to sleep, what does it look like?” Fleur replied simply.

  
“I’m wide awake now! You can’t just go back to sleep!” Hermione retorted, struck by how unfair the situation was. Dashing around the house had got her too wide awake to simply go straight back to sleep.

“But Hermione, I am tired,” Fleur whined playfully, opening both eyes and pouting at the brunette.

“Brat,” Hermione teased back, acting as if she were far more annoyed than she was. 

Fleur shifted closer to Hermione in the bed, her eyes seeming almost silvery again.

“Well, I can make it up to you, I suppose,” Fleur said slowly and deliberately.

Hermione felt a heat bloom within her as Fleur ran an elegant hand up her arm before cupping her face. She was putty in the beautiful part-Veela’s hands.

Hermione wanted to say something but all breath had halted in her throat.

Fleur leaned forward in the dim light, her lips brushing Hermione’s gently before pressing against them with fervor. Hermione melted into the kiss, her hand snaking it’s way into Fleur’s hair and giving it a light tug. Fleur moaned slightly and Hermione took the opportunity to slide her tongue into her mouth, her body positively thrumming with pleasure. It was even better than the two previous kisses, Hermione pouring all of her affection into it and taking charge. Fleur moaned again into the kiss and Hermione felt a jolt of arousal course through her. Her hand released Fleur’s hair and travelled down her body, getting lower and lower…

Fleur broke the kiss suddenly, pulling back.

“Erm, sorry,” Hermione muttered, “I didn’t mean to push things too far,”

“I just… I should sleep,” Fleur muttered.

Hermione wished she could see Fleur a little more clearly in the dim lighting of the dark room. Not that it would help her with the blonde’s notorious ability to keep a straight face.

Fleur rolled over in the bed, turning away from Hermione. Hermione sighed and lay back in bed, staring up at the ceiling.

* * *

Hermione was at her desk, cramming for exams as she had been all week. She had gone even more over the top with her studies in the time since the Great Kissing Day (as she had come to refer to it inside her own mind). Fleur had continued her pattern of avoiding any uncomfortable discussions, distracting Hermione more and more wildly any time the brunette came close to discussing the kisses or what Cassandra had said she must tell her.

So far, they had created a list of no less than one hundred possible names for the baby, decided on what the baby would call each of them (Maman for Fleur, Mum for Hermione), and even started discussing where in the room a cot would fit.

Hermione smiled absently. She had to hand it to the blonde, the baby _was_ the most delightful distraction.

Finally giving up on initiating the conversation for now, Hermione did what she knew best: threw herself into study.

Hermione leaned back, stretching in her chair and clicking her neck. She’d been poring over books for hours.

The door opened and Ginny burst in.

“Finally! I’ve been trying to get that door open for at least an hour!” Ginny exclaimed.

“Sorry, had a silencing spell on the room so I couldn’t hear a thing outside of this room,” Hermione commented, flipping a page in her textbook.

Ginny came over to lean on her desk. She had a beer in her hand that she was sipping at.

“You’re really going to miss your own end of semester party, huh?” Ginny asked idly, kicking at some scrunched up parchment on the floor.

“Not my party, Gin,” Hermione reminded in a sing-song voice.

“Well… A party at your place, anyway,” Ginny corrected, “Come on—take a break from study.”

“And why should I do that?” Hermione grumbled, looking up at Ginny.

“Well, you’re going to pass your exams anyway,” Ginny said, “Ron’s trying to crack on with Fleur’s French mates which is making for fantastic entertainment, _and_ Amelie is here.”

“You’re not enticing me, Ginny,” Hermione said flatly. She hadn’t told her friends about the kisses with Fleur and thus had not told them about her need to distract herself from her urge to push the blonde into talking.

The blonde was dealing with ridiculous pregnancy hormones on top of a Veela temperament; if Hermione pestered her again, it was only a matter of time until the blonde would snap. Best to lay low and wait for an opportune time to raise the issue. 

“Come on, just half an hour? Humour me,” Ginny requested.

The redhead began to play with quills on Hermione’s desk. The brunette sighed heavily, realizing that Ginny was not going to leave her alone until she relented.

“Fine,” Hermione said begrudgingly.

Ginny fist pumped, dragging Hermione away from her desk before she could change her mind.

The second Hermione left the sanctuary of her room, she was hit by the booming music blasting through the house. Of course Ron would have insisted on it being a large party. Ginny and Hermione weaved through already heavily intoxicated people in the hallway and headed downstairs.

Hermione saw Fleur immediately, surrounded by a throng of women that looked like they could easily be models. Fleur looked in her element, reminding Hermione of how truly intimidating Fleur had been at Hogwarts during the Triwizard Tournament. Fleur was actually smiling and laughing easily.

A part of Hermione was jealous. She wished that Fleur was laughing and at ease with her right now, not avoiding a conversation she desperately wanted to have.

_‘Maybe now would be a good time to get her to talk about the kisses..’_ the obsessive part of Hermione’s brain suggested. Hermione bit her lip.

_‘No way, it would be dreadful timing—right when she is finally relaxing with her friends she hasn’t seen in a long time…’_ Hermione told herself firmly.

“Oh God, here goes Ron about to make another pass at one of Fleur’s friends,” Ginny muttered, elbowing Hermione in the ribs.

A drunken-looking Ron was slyly sidling up to the group of beautiful Frenchwomen. Hermione’s resolve broke.

“Let’s go talk to them,” Hermione said, not even waiting for a response before she strode over to the group. Ginny scampered after her.

“You know, my favourite cuising has always been French,” Ron drawled drunkenly, wiggling his eyebrows at a dark-blonde girl standing near Fleur.

Ginny stifled a guffaw, nudging Hermione again.

But Hermione wasn’t here to watch Ron’s appalling flirting tactics. She walked right up to Fleur.

“Hey, Fleur,” Hermione greeted.

“Salut, Hermione,” Fleur smiled radiantly, “These are some of my friends from Beauxbatons…”

Fleur began rattling off a number of French names, prompting beautiful women around Fleur to flash welcoming smiles at Hermione.

“This is Hermione,” Fleur told the throng of women around her, “She is a friend of mine. I actually recently moved in here with her.”

“Oh, Fleur, I thought the interior design positively screamed of your influence!” a curly haired redhead next to Fleur purred in a strong French accent.

Hermione felt jealousy rear inside her.

“I’m actually the parent of her child,” Hermione interjected bluntly.

An awkward silence settled over the Frenchwomen at Hermione’s sudden tone. Polite smiles were affixed to pretty faces as Fleur’s friends decided to ignore the harshness in Hermione’s voice.

“Ooh, congratulations ‘Ermione!” various women cooed at Hermione. It was doing nothing to soothe her possessiveness over Fleur.

She’d wanted to talk to Fleur about the kisses badly enough. Now Fleur was surrounded by a throng of beautiful women, the urge was becoming more and more unbearable.

“Fleur can we talk about what happened the other night?” Hermione blurted.

Gazes turned curious and flicked between Hermione and Fleur.

Fleur frowned slightly, familiar iciness descending over her features.

“Let us talk outside a moment,” Fleur suggested neutrally.

Hermione knew she had set off Fleur’s hormonal temper but she didn’t care, anything to discuss the kisses she so desperately wanted to read more into. She simply nodded and followed Fleur outside.

She could feel the curious eyes of Fleur’s friends and Ginny watching them as they left.

Once they were out in the solitude of the dimly lit garden of Grimmauld Place, Fleur turned to Hermione, her azure eyes flashing with annoyance.

“ _Must_ you bring up such delicate subjects in front of my friends?!” Fleur snapped, “I was enjoying finally having some time to catch up with them. I felt normal for the first time since getting pregnant!”

“Look, I just want to talk about what happened between us,” Hermione started, her own temper beginning to flare, “Is it so much to ask to just have some clarity?”

“I’m just not ready to talk about it!” Fleur snapped.

Hermione found herself being wound up even more. She couldn’t stop the long overdue frustration at how closed-off Fleur was.

“I can’t believe I’m chasing you out of some kind of slim hope that you could want to be with me!” Hermione shouted, exasperated, “I could be with someone open and readable! I could be with Amelie! I could be with anyone!”

Fleur suddenly, unexpectedly, reacted. She looked as if she had been struck across the face.

“Yes, you _could_ be with anyone!” Fleur retorted in a hiss, “You could be with anyone but I have no choice but you!”

“Just because we’re having a baby doesn’t mean you can’t go off and date someone else, like you so clearly would love to do,” Hermione shot back.

Fleur’s eyes flashed with definite sparks of silver.

“Don’t you get it?” Fleur said from between clenched teeth, “You’re my mate.”

“I’m… What?” Hermione was entirely thrown.

“You’re my mate,” Fleur repeated, even more temperamental, “My cursed blood binds me to one lifetime mate. Once I have become pregnant by them, I cannot date anyone else for the rest of my life. Whereas, you! You get stronger! You can date anyone you want! The sun shines on Hermione Granger!”

“Wh-what?” Hermione stammered, “Fleur—I didn’t know that! I’m so sorry…”

“I didn’t know how to tell you without getting this,” Fleur said with disdain, waving at Hermione, “Your pity.”

Hermione opened her mouth to explain that it wasn’t pity. That it didn’t matter that Hermione could date anyone, she didn’t have any interest in doing that.

But Fleur turned on her heel, her long mane of silvery-blonde hair billowing out behind her. She stormed off inside Grimmauld Place, slamming the door behind her.


	16. Chapter 16

Hermione paced the garden of Grimmauld Place. She wasn’t sure what to do.

Her head was full of thoughts. Guilt over not realizing that Fleur had been struggling with this issue. Frustration that Fleur hadn’t shared it with her earlier. A deep affection driving her to seek out the blonde and soothe her.

She went back inside, scooping up a beer and sipping at it agitatedly.

Amelie approached her through the throng of partygoers.

“Hey Golden Girl,” Amelie greeted flirtily, “You look a little troubled.”

“Hey Amelie,” Hermione sighed, “Yeah… I’m having trouble with Fleur.”

“Well, pregnant women can be a little moody,” Amelie shrugged, before realization crossed her face, “Wait—is Fleur the woman you’re hung up on?! Of course!”

Hermione blushed prettily, making Amelie grin wider.

“Oh, you are sooo cute,” Amelie squealed, “Fleur is _so_ lucky—ugh!”

“I wouldn’t say she’s that lucky,” Hermione said glumly, “We got into an argument and I said some stupid things.”

“Everyone says stupid things in an argument,” Amelie placated, “Just flash that adorable smile of yours and talk it out.”

Hermione sighed.

“I’m not sure it’s as simple as that,” Hermione groaned.

“Nooope, you aren’t going to overthink this one!” Amelie giggled, grabbing Hermione by the shoulders and steering her towards the crowd, “Go find your woman and talk it out.”

She gave Hermione a light shove and a slap on the butt, resulting in a surprised yelp from the Golden Girl.

Hermione pushed her way through the crowd, trying to find silvery blonde hair amongst the throngs of people.

She saw platinum blonde and pushed through, stumbling across a blonde snogging a raven-haired boy.

“Fleur--? Oh, sorry!” Hermione stammered, realizing that the blonde was Luna and the raven-haired boy was Harry.

They hadn’t even heard her, too wrapped up in each other. Luna’s hands were clasped tightly behind Harry’s neck. Harry’s were buried in Luna’s platinum blonde hair.

For once she wouldn’t be the one that had had a scandalous tryst at a party. Hermione smirked, leaving her two friends to continue kissing.

Hermione continued pushing her way through the crowd, again seeking out Fleur in the crowd. She spotted another platinum blonde, this one with a silvery quality to their hair.

Hermione rushed forward, grabbing the woman’s shoulder.

“Fleur, I— Oh, for Pete’s sake!” Hermione had whirled around one of Fleur’s French friends.

“Salut,” the woman greeted, “Sophie, remember? And you’re Hermione, non?”

“Er, yeah,” Hermione mumbled awkwardly, “Sorry for, er, grabbing you… I’m looking for Fleur.”

“She went off with some of our other friends, quite upset,” Sophie replied, “Would you like to accompany me while I get a fresh wine instead? Fleur probably just needs some time to vent with her friends.”

“Oh… Okay,” Hermione said, disappointed. She followed the blonde through the crowd to the kitchen.

Her hair really did have the same silvery quality to it that Fleur’s did. It was just as perfectly straight as Fleur’s, too.

Sophie found a chilled bottle of white wine and poured herself a glass. She offered the bottle to Hermione.

“Er, no thanks,” Hermione smiled politely, “I’m good with my beer.”

Hermione leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping at her beer. It was surprisingly empty in the kitchen. Hermione didn’t mind. It gave her more space to think than the crowds and music elsewhere.

“Fleur never used to have a problem with being part-Veela,” Sophie said, sipping at her wine, “Before the Triwizard Tournament, Madame Maxime held an assembly at school. Explained that if we wanted to travel with the delegate and had mixed blood, we would need to do additional paperwork and would need to avoid talking about it while abroad.”

“That’s awful,” Hermione said sympathetically. Sophie nodded.

“It was so strange even watching Madame Maxime, who was well-known as being half-giant back home, go into intense denial about her own heritage,” Sophie said, shaking her head, “I went back home after the first fortnight. I didn’t like being made to be ashamed of being part creature.”

“You are also…?”

“I am part-Veela also, oui,” Sophie confirmed.

“Ah, Fleur did mention something about it having less of a stigma in France,” Hermione said.

“Oui,” Sophie replied, “We are lucky, I suppose. Hard to believe if Antoinette were to have a hope at getting a teaching job here, she would have to keep her werewolf status entirely under wraps like some clandestine secret. Antoinette is the redhead that was beside Fleur earlier, in case you forgot.”

“It was a lot of names to remember all at once,” Hermione acknowledged, rubbing the back of her neck.

“She likes you, you know,” Sophie said, swirling the wine in her glass.

“Antoinette?”

“Fleur,” Sophie clarified, “I’ve never seen her talk about anyone else the way she talks about you.”

Hermione snorted.

“You have to be joking,” Hermione scoffed, “She is constantly annoyed with me. It sounds like she’s stuck with me and she’s mad about it.”

Sophie shook her head, her silvery hair spilling loose across her face.

“She is mad about being a Veela,” Sophie sighed sadly, “I suppose if you had years of prejudice, you would grow frustrated at the part of you that made life more difficult for you than for others.”

“Yes, but what has that got to do with me?” Hermione asked, “Did she mean it when she said I am her mate? What does that mean?”

“Woah, girl, too many questions!” Sophie smiled, raising her hands up in defeat, “A lot of this is really for Fleur to tell you herself.”

“Ugh, you sound like Cassandra,” Hermione groaned. Sophie laughed.

“You met her grandmere then,” Sophie surmised, “Look, Fleur likes you. If you are her mate, that is a very scary and vulnerable thing for a Veela—whether you have hang-ups about your blood status or not.”

“How so?” Hermione asked, biting her lip.

Sophie sighed, looking reluctant to share too much.

“Once a Veela’s blood has recognized their mate, they cannot love another person. They cannot even try to. But the mate… They do not have the Veela blood, no? They are free to date whoever they want,” Sophie said with a sad smile, “It is quite scary… Knowing that you are forever bound to someone who is not bound to you.”

“So if I’m her mate, she doesn’t have a choice—her blood has just chosen me whether she likes me or not?” Hermione asked, frowning, “So she is _stuck_ with me.”

Sophie stepped forward, cupping Hermione’s cheek in a soothing manner.

“It isn’t like that,” Sophie said, “The Veela blood would not call out to someone that she was not meant to be with. It is supposed to be a blessing, not a curse.”

“Right… But it’s just because I got her pregnant?” Hermione asked, furrowing her brow. This was information overload and she had to ask question after question to make sense of it all. Sophie shook her head.

“Anyone can get a Veela pregnant,” Sophie smiled, “We are extremely fertile. But not everyone displays the symptoms of being the Veela’s mate. Supercharged powers and the likes…”

The kitchen door clattered open and a cluster of people walked in, Ginny and Ron amongst them.

“Hey, ‘Mione!” Ron grinned, as Ginny and Ron approached her.

“I have already said too much,” Sophie murmured quietly to Hermione, “You really need to discuss these things properly with Fleur.”

“Well, hello there,” Ron said seductively to Sophie, flattening his hair down, “Friend of Fleur’s?”

Sophie stiffened, uncomfortable at his demeanour. But then her eyes moved to Ginny and she smiled a predatory smile that reminded Hermione of Cassandra.

“Bon soir, mademoiselle,” Sophie purred, her eyes roaming Ginny in a way that almost made Hermione blush as a mere bystander, “I am Sophie. You are?”

Both Ron and Ginny seemed oblivious to the part-Veela’s obvious intentions. Ron puffed his chest out a little and tensed his arms, trying to appear more muscular. Ginny smiled politely and extended her hand.

“Ginny Weasley,” Ginny replied simply, “This is my brother Ron.”

“Ginny Weasley,” Sophie grinned, taking Ginny’s hand and not letting go.

Hermione raised her eyebrows at Ginny, who shot her a confused look.

_‘Really? She gives me a hard time and can’t even tell when a Veela is trying to lure her in?’_ Hermione thought to herself, amused.

“Have fun, guys,” Hermione smirked, taking her leave.

As she got out to the living area again, she noticed several men she knew from Hogwarts chatting up Fleur’s remaining friends. But Fleur herself was nowhere in sight.

Gambling on the chance that Fleur might have retired early for the night, Hermione pushed through the crowd and leaped up the stairs two at a time. She wanted to finally get some clarity about the situation. More than that, she wanted to soothe Fleur’s troubled mind.

Sure enough, when Hermione entered their room, Fleur was sitting on the bed, messaging on her phone.

“You okay?” Hermione asked softly, shutting the door behind her.

Fleur’s clear blue eyes raised immediately from her phone to look at Hermione.

  
“Yes, just messaging my family,” Fleur replied neutrally, “I feel a bit tired so I’m just going to call it a night and go to bed.”

“I don’t pity you,” Hermione said, referencing their argument from outside.

Fleur stiffened, putting her phone away.

“I’m sorry for losing my temper,” Fleur said, “These hormones…”

Hermione could tell the beautiful woman in front of her was yet again trying to change the subject and avoid discussing things. She didn’t like making Fleur uncomfortable, but Hermione was determined to get the conversation over and done with.

“I’m not going to leave you,” Hermione pressed, “I know you feel vulnerable about that.”

Fleur sighed heavily.

“You do not appreciate what you are offering,” Fleur said, her eyes stormy, “You could date anyone you want. We are both young and you have your whole life ahead of you. You have only been intimate with me that one time… We’ve never really tried to have a relationship… I wouldn’t want to force you into that for my sake.”

“Oh, don’t try to be all gallant,” Hermione huffed, “I’ve had enough of that being friends with Harry. So, I take it that what Cassandra wanted you to tell me is that I’m your mate?”

Fleur looked uncomfortable, stiffening a little.

“Oui, you are demonstrating a number of symptoms that are only seen when one is a Veela’s mate,” Fleur confirmed, “The not being able to rest while apart was one according to Grandmere, but was in no way definite proof either, so she said nothing at the time. But the increased strength demonstrated with your magic is quite compelling proof.”

“Oh,” Hermione couldn’t muster much else in response.

“This cursed blood,” Fleur muttered, before swearing.

Hermione felt herself growing self conscious again. Fleur, even with a belly swelled with pregnancy, was exceedingly beautiful. She was fiery, elegant, mysterious… Hermione couldn’t quite imagine someone like Fleur on the arm of someone like _her._

“Are… Are you disappointed that I’m your mate?” Hermione asked, petrified of the answer.

Fleur looked down, her cheeks growing a little pink.

“I am not disappointed that we are destined to one another,” Fleur said so quietly that Hermione could scarcely hear it, “But that you will inevitably get bored of me… Or sick of me… And when that happens, you’re free to go on to whoever you want. Whereas I…”

“Wait… What…?” Hermione was confused. Fleur had skipped over one particular disappointment that Hermione thought would have been front and centre.

“Do you really have to force me to say it?” Fleur growled, still looking quite intently at the floor, “I could never keep someone like you. Someone so highly intelligent, brave, adventurous… You would tire of me so quickly.” 

“ _That’s_ what you’re worried about?” Hermione gaped at the woman in front of her, “That you wouldn’t be enough for me? I thought you were disappointed that your mate was _me._ ”

Fleur looked up at Hermione again. Hermione felt a horrible jolt as she realized tears were budding in the corners of Fleur’s eyes. There was something quite awful about seeing someone as composed and strong as Fleur brought to tears.

“Throughout this pregnancy…” Fleur said, still speaking quietly, “You’ve been so good to me. You’ve been everything I could ever want in a partner and more.”

“What?!” Hermione yelped, “Why didn’t you say?!”

A tear rolled down Fleur’s cheek.

“You… You rejected me that night when I tried to make something happen between us again,” Fleur said, her eyes casting down to the floor again.

Hermione grew ashen.

“Fl-Fleur! That was never meant to be a rejection!” Hermione exclaimed, “You petrified me! You’re so stunning! Having someone so perfect in my lap like that got me so flustered! Then when you avoided any talk of it… I assumed it was hormones and nothing more.”

“Petrified?” Fleur asked, looking up again.

Hermione nodded emphatically.

“Absolutely! As soon as I realized I had slept with you I felt so totally inadequate! Then as I realized how funny and cute and strange you can be, it just flustered me more,” Hermione explained, rubbing the back of her neck.

“Strange!” Fleur retorted with slight outrage.

“Fleur… Peanut butter and pickle sandwich?” Hermione teased, quirking an eyebrow, “You’re a secret weirdo.”

“Hey!” Fleur pouted adorably, “Lots of women have strange pregnancy cravings!”

Hermione’s mind was whirring even more than when she didn’t know anything at all. Fleur had been acting the way she had because she had thought Hermione had rejected her. All the teasing, the moodiness and the distance… Well, Fleur was naturally moody and distant. But it had definitely been _increased_ by her sense of rejection.

“So every time you got annoyed at your mum for suggesting we were together…?” Hermione queried. Fleur frowned.

“Well, I get annoyed at her for nagging me about anything,” Fleur said, “But that particular topic… That really just rubbed salt in the wounds so to speak. There is no way you would ever want to be with someone like me for the rest of your life.”

“Well that’s just not true. I have to say, though… You’re being pretty open with me… Strangely open for you,” Hermione noted.

Fleur sighed, her shoulders slumping.

“My friends urged me to,” Fleur groaned, “I really don’t like it. Can we talk about something else now?”

“Wait,” Hermione paused, “So if you were just out of sorts because you thought I’d rejected you and not because it was me… Does that mean… You’re actually interested…?”

To Hermione’s total surprise, Fleur blushed a deep red, looking down once again. Hermione had never seen Fleur react quite like it before. The brunette patiently waited for Fleur to answer, but she continued intently looking away, blushing. It appeared Fleur had reached her limit for how much uncomfortable conversation she could withstand.

Hermione thought it was sweet. Fleur really was quite shy and self conscious at heart.

“Well… How about we keep all the pressure off and just focus on getting to know each other a bit more?” Hermione suggested, “I’m not interested in dating anyone else, I’m not going to suddenly reject you, and you don’t have to leap into anything you aren’t ready for. Does that sound okay?”

Fleur nodded, still looking thoroughly embarrassed.

Hermione sat down beside Fleur on the edge of the bed, putting her hand on top of Fleur’s.

“Can we just pretend that we never had such a mortifying conversation?” Fleur mumbled somewhat sulkily. She was still looking intently at the floor.

“Fleur,” Hermione said softly. She took her other hand and cupped Fleur’s face, turning the blonde’s head to look at her. Fleur resisted a little before finally bringing her eyes up to meet Hermione’s.

“You are a complicated little thing, aren’t you?” Hermione smiled.

“I am not,” Fleur said, pouting a little. Hermione inwardly cheered. At least the blonde was feeling well enough to pout.

Hermione leaned in, gently kissing Fleur on the nose. Fleur adorably scrunched up her nose in response.

“Shall we get ready for bed then?” Hermione asked, standing up and stretching.

“You aren’t going to return to the party?” Fleur queried.

“I’d rather spend time with you,” Hermione shrugged.

Hermione walked over to her wardrobe. She could feel Fleur’s intense gaze upon her. After their talk, Hermione was a lot less self-conscious in front of the blonde. Now she knew that Fleur had been acting out of her _own_ insecurities, Hermione felt many of her anxieties melt away.

She tugged at the bottom of her tee, clenching her jaw. Although she had previously shown Fleur her scars, she still wasn’t entirely comfortable with her body. Still, no better time to get past it.

_‘I guess I really have become bolder,’_ Hermione thought to herself idly.

She pulled her tee over her head and shed the rest of her clothes, selecting a singlet and some boxers to swap to.

When she finished tidying her clothes away and turned back to Fleur, she saw the blonde was already bare shouldered and tucked up in bed.

She paused for a moment, assessing the situation.

Never in a million years had Hermione thought she would live in a world like this. Voldemort finally defeated for good, living with her best friends, a gorgeous woman in her bed who _liked_ her, a perfect baby boy on the way.

Hermione grinned like an idiot. How many people would kill to be in her position right now?

“What are you smiling about?” Fleur asked, cocking her head to one side curiously.

“Nothing,” Hermione grinned, coming to bed and climbing in next to the beautiful part-Veela, “Just… When did I get so lucky?” 

“You can be so cheesy,” Fleur commented, apparently feeling more relaxed again. She shuffled up next to Hermione, flinging an arm across her stomach.

“You like it,” Hermione teased, sliding her arm around Fleur’s shoulders and pulling her closer. She could feel Fleur’s pregnant belly firm against her side and it made her smile, thinking about the little boy growing inside.

There was a sudden bump and Hermione and Fleur looked at each other, their eyes wide.

“He just kicked!” Hermione exclaimed.

“Oui!” Fleur gasped, “It was so strong! Mon petit chou, are you trying to kick your British mummy for being so cheesy?”

Fleur rubbed her belly as she talked to the little baby within. Hermione felt her heart absolutely melt.

“I hope you don’t usually talk ill of me to the baby,” Hermione teased, watching Fleur with a large smile on her face.

Fleur glanced up, her clear blue eyes locking with Hermione’s. She smiled a coy little smile.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Fleur teased.

Hermione feigned shock and horror, causing Fleur to giggle.

“If this is the case, I’m going to have to wait until you fall asleep to tell our boy what his Maman is _really_ like!” Hermione teased Fleur back.

“Gorgeous and talented?” Fleur suggested.

“Or maybe that she has a truly shocking ego?” Hermione chuckled.

“You like it,” Fleur teased, repeating Hermione’s retort from before back to her.

Hermione was stunned momentarily by how beautiful Fleur looked when relaxed and smiling. Her blue eyes were positively sparkling.

Hermione couldn’t help herself, leaning in and capturing the blonde’s lips with her own. Fleur’s lips were soft and sensual, pressing back against Hermione’s as her hand crept up Hermione’s neck to tangle amongst her brunette curls. Hermione, emboldened further, pushed her tongue into the blonde’s mouth.

Fleur sighed in pleasure, making Hermione’s pulse quicken. The fact she was now confident that Fleur herself was enjoying it was turning Hermione on more. Encouraged, Hermione let her eager hands run down the expanse of Fleur’s toned back. It felt amazing to get her hands freely over what she had admired for so long. Cautiously, she allowed her hands to drift down to Fleur’s ample backside, moaning as she squeezed it with satisfaction.

Their kiss finally broke and Hermione gazed into Fleur’s eyes, drunk on arousal. The blonde’s pupils were blown, the bright azure of her iris a mere thin ring around the dark lust of them. Sighing shakily, Fleur smirked.

“I knew you were an ass woman,” Fleur teased lightly.

Hermione removed her hands from Fleur’s ass quickly, blushing lightly.

“Aw, shut up,” Hermione said, embarrassed.

Fleur giggled as Hermione pulled her into a loose cuddle once more. The women lay together in silence, more content together than they had ever been. As sleepiness finally overcame them, both drifted off with a smile on their face.


	17. Chapter 17

Hermione pulled on a denim shirt over her black jeans.

It was the morning after the party and she had woken up snugly cuddling Fleur as usual. But it was nicer than usual, knowing that Fleur was just as content with her.

Now they were getting changed for the day. Fleur wanted to go and look at baby clothes. Hermione was excited at the prospect. It just made the whole situation seem even more real.

Fleur was dressed in a loose dress and was tying up her hair in a loose bun.

“Can we have breakfast before we go?” Hermione asked.

Fleur nodded and they headed out the door. Hermione found her hand drifting to rest in the small of Fleur’s back. It was as if each day went on, she grew more protective of the blonde.

They stepped down the stairs and into the living room. Fleur stopped to look curiously at a bundle of blankets on one of the couches.

“Oh, Ginny stays here all the time,” Hermione said dismissively, “She usually just crashes on the couch after a party.”

“Sophie?” Fleur asked, raising her eyebrows.

Hermione’s eyes widened as she looked closer. Rugged up together under a fluffy blanket was Ginny and Fleur’s friend Sophie, both in stages of undress.

Ginny looked mortified at being caught, her face turning beet red. Sophie, on the other hand, looked like the cat that had got the cream. Hermione noticed several lovebites on Ginny’s neck.

There was creaking on the staircase behind them and Hermione barely restrained a laugh at Ginny’s expense as Ron clapped eyes on his sister cosied up with the part-Veela on the couch.

“What the bloody hell?!” Ron exclaimed, his mouth hanging open, “What—Fleur’s friend—Huh?! I thought you were into me?! You even made that comment about redheads last night!”

“About redheads being more passionate?” Sophie drawled, running a finger down Ginny’s shoulder, “Mm, that was directed at your sister here… And I was correct in my assumptions.”

If it was possible for Ginny to get redder, it happened.

Hermione smirked. It appeared that Sophie had succeeded in seducing the youngest Weasley the previous evening. Hermione had no idea that Ginny was even interested in women. But then, Hermione supposed, she herself hadn’t considered herself that way inclined until she had a part-Veela in her arms either.

“Eurgh!” Ron groaned, pushing past Hermione in disgust and storming through to the kitchen. Hermione chuckled, pulling a surprised Fleur along with her to give Ginny some much needed privacy to pull herself together.

Hermione took a seat across the table from Fleur. She loved admiring the beauty of the part-Veela in the morning light.

Ron sat down next to Fleur putting a plate of toast down on the table with a range of spreads.

“I cannot bloody believe this,” Ron grumbled, “I was convinced I was in there!”

“Better luck next time, Ron,” Hermione said with slight sympathy. She couldn’t feel too bad for the boy after all the teasing she had endured after her own drunken tryst.

Sophie entered the kitchen, wearing her form fitting dress from the evening before. She flipped her hair over her shoulder, looking preened to perfection. Ginny skulked in behind her, looking extremely sheepish. Sophie took a seat beside Fleur and Ginny took a seat beside Hermione.

“Nice hickeys, Gin,” Hermione teased, “Hope you used protection.”

“Oh, I bet you’re enjoying this,” Ginny muttered darkly, blushing.

“You bet I am,” Hermione smirked, beginning to butter her toast.

Ron was scowling again, buttering his toast with a jealous viciousness.

The door opened again and Harry entered with Luna. Both of them had thoroughly tousled hair.

“Well, well,” Hermione commented gleefully, “Where did you two come from?”

Harry and Luna blushed. Hermione was loving this morning even more. Finally, everyone else was in the same situation she had been at the start of all this.

“Luna?!” Ginny exclaimed, “You and… Harry?!”

Luna looked as sheepish as Ginny had mere moments earlier.

“Luna and Harry what?” Ron asked, narrowing his eyes in confusion.

“Gin, you and Harry haven’t dated in years,” Luna said cautiously. Ron’s jaw dropped open as he realized what had happened.

“Harry, you slept with Luna last night?!” Ron bellowed, dropping his toast.

“Oi, keep it down, mate,” Harry groaned massaging his temples as he sat down at the table, “I’m a little hungover.”

“Bloody hell, did _everyone_ hook up last night except for me?” Ron cursed.

The table began to squabble with each other as Hermione once again turned her attentions to Fleur. The blonde was diplomatically staying out of the heated discussion, instead talking in French with Sophie.

Hermione couldn’t quite believe she was the blonde’s mate. Fleur had always been the definition of unattainable. A distant ice queen. But she had always been beautiful. She looked even more beautiful now she was with child. She was practically glowing. Hermione admired her bright complexion and shimmering sapphire eyes. She seemed quite content this morning. Hermione’s eyes drifted to Fleur’s plump pink lips. They felt so good on Hermione’s… Hermione could remember how good they felt in other places too, and felt a pang deep in her stomach. Her eyes then travelled down Fleur’s slender neck and delicate collarbones to her chest. Hermione’s eyes widened slightly. Pregnancy was really making Fleur’s breasts increase in size. Hermione couldn’t quite take her eyes off the cleavage across the table from her. She felt herself throb uncomfortably.

“Hermione?” Ron asked.

“Ron, she’s too busy staring at Fleur’s tits,” Ginny commented loudly.

Hermione blushed, wrenching her gaze from Fleur’s chest.

Fleur was looking at her now, quirking an eyebrow.

“I… I was not…” Hermione mumbled, feeling her face burn, “I was just… Noticing pregnancy changes!”

She shot Ginny a withering look.

“Ginny is a breast woman too,” Sophie told Hermione across the table with a wink.

“Sophie!” Ginny gasped, blushing. Hermione snickered.

“Really?” Fleur raised her eyebrows, “Hermione is more—“

“Fleur! We should get going if we want to hit the shops,” Hermione interrupted, pushing her chair out as she stood up suddenly.

Fleur smirked, amused. The blonde really knew how to push her buttons. Hermione shot her a thoroughly unimpressed look as they excused themselves from the table and exited the kitchen. They could hear lively discussion break out at the table again.

“So you like the changes my body is undergoing with pregnancy?” Fleur asked playfully, taking Hermione’s arm.

“Er,” Hermione swallowed heavily, blushing.

“I didn’t know that Ginny was interested in women,” Fleur commented, taking pity on Hermione and changing the subject.

Hermione shrugged as they walked outside and began to walk to a nearby bus stop.

“I didn’t know I was either,” Hermione commented.

“What?” Fleur was surprised, “But you flirted with me that night!”

“Well… I mean… I’d always noticed how attractive you were,” Hermione said sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck, “You’ve always had a real grace and elegance about you too. Plus, the cold arrogance was always kind of hot.”

“Cold arrogance?!” Fleur spluttered.

Hermione took her hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

“Well… That was my impression of you,” Hermione said with a small smile, “Now I know you’re secretly quite sweet.”

Fleur frowned as the bus drew up.

Hermione didn’t really like the large purple Knight Bus. But with Fleur in her second trimester, it really wasn’t appropriate for her to be apparating anywhere. They had only just managed to clamber into the back seat of the bus when it lurched off at breakneck speed. Hermione had to grab the seat in front of her to steady herself.

“I hope you are prepared to shop all day,” Fleur said with a coy smile, “I absolutely _love_ shopping.”

“Ohh… What have I got myself into?” Hermione began to complain as the bus jolted around a corner suddenly. Fleur and Hermione tumbled across the back seat, suddenly wishing they had opted to stand and cling to a handrail instead.

Hermione felt Fleur beneath her and raised herself up on her hands, afraid of hurting the pregnant woman. The bus lurched again and Hermione stumbled, finding her face buried in Fleur’s cleavage.

She blushed as Fleur made a noise of surprise.

Hermione pulled herself off the blonde, helping Fleur up too.

“Err, sorry about that,” Hermione mumbled, still red. She was embarrassed at how turned on she had got from just a short incident.

“My, you do like them,” Fleur commented smugly, teasing Hermione.

The bus jerked again, wrenching onto Diagon Alley. Fleur tumbled forward, caught off-guard as she had been busy teasing the brunette. She stumbled face first into Hermione’s crotch.

“Well… If you could keep yourself from drifting to my nether regions, I think we’ve arrived,” Hermione smirked.

“Oh, shut up,” Fleur grumbled, straightening up and getting off the bus. Hermione followed her, chuckling. Despite her mirth at Fleur’s instant karma, it hadn’t escaped her notice how good it had felt to have the blonde’s face down between her thighs. 

“So, where do you want to go?” Hermione asked, changing the subject.

Fleur’s eyes had lit up already, eying up all the shops.

“Well, Diagon Alley is an _okay_ start,” Fleur mused, tapping her chin, “But the real baby clothes district is over on Pringle Terrace.”

“Sure, we can head there after here,” Hermione nodded, following Fleur into the first clothes shop on Diagon.

As soon as they walked in, Hermione’s eye was caught by some baby clothes themed like Hogwarts classes.

“Ohhhh that is _so adorable!_ ” Hermione grinned, picking up a scarlet and gold onesie. The front read _mum’s little lion._

She put it down, then seeing another one with an all over print of a cartoon Gryffindor lion.

“Fleur, this one is so cute! It even has little feet on it!” Hermione exclaimed, turning around. Her jaw dropped immediately at the humungous pile of clothes in Fleur’s arms.

“Can we get them all?” Fleur asked, her face obscured by the sheer bulk of clothing in her arms.

“How did… How did you even find so many clothes so fast?” Hermione asked in shock.

“I have an eye for a good item,” Fleur drawled proudly from behind the mountain of clothes.

“Fleur, this is the first shop, for Pete’s sake!” Hermione groaned, “There is no way you’re getting more than two of those.”

Fleur dropped the mountain of clothes on the floor sulkily.

“Hermione!” Fleur pouted, “Don’t you love our baby?”

Hermione stepped towards Fleur, climbing carefully over the pile of clothes. She took Fleur’s hand and pulled her close.

“Of course I love our baby, my melodramatic Veela,” Hermione smiled, amused, “Look, I’ll let you get three if you stop sulking.”

Fleur beamed, instantly picking through the mountain of clothing to sift out her favourite three outfits.

“Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone tame Fleur’s temper that fast,” a familiar voice rang out.

Fleur and Hermione looked up to see Bill Weasley striding towards them, a couple of ties in his hands.

“Bill!” Fleur exclaimed happily, running to hug her best friend.

Hermione held back, a little wary of Bill’s influence on Fleur.

“So this is what you’ve been doing with all your spare time instead of hanging out with me,” Bill commented, eying Hermione and the baby clothes in her hands.

Fleur bit her lip, looking a little guilty.

“I’m sorry,” Fleur smiled at Bill apologetically, “You can tag along with us if you like?”

Hermione restrained herself from vocally vetoing the option. He was Fleur’s best friend after all. But he could be toxic sometimes, and Hermione didn’t like how that rubbed off on Fleur. It didn’t help the blonde’s hang ups on being part-creature. It especially didn’t help any self consciousness around Fleur giving things a go with Hermione.

“Sure,” Bill beamed.

Hermione rolled her eyes, trying not to groan.

They finished up at the Diagon Alley shop, purchasing the two Gryffindor themed outfits and three of Fleur’s stylish options from the mountain of clothes she had liked.

Hermione carried the shopping bag as she walked alongside Fleur and Bill to Pringle Terrace.

Bill and Fleur looked like they could be a couple from a magazine. Bill was handsome, long red hair tied up into a bun and an attractive short beard of bristles. He was dressed casually, unlike how Hermione had seen him around Gringotts, with a leather jacket, jeans and a fang earring in one ear. The long scars down the side of his face somehow made him even more attractive, adding an edginess to him that had not previously been there.

“So, love, been up to anything interesting this weekend?” Bill asked, looping his arm through Fleur’s.

“Oh, oui! The Beauxbatons girls were in town last night and came to a party at Grimmauld Place,” Fleur gushed, “It was amazing getting to catch up with them. Do you remember me telling you about Sophie? You’ll never guess who she slept with last night!”

“Oh, the other—“ Bill lowered his voice and looked around uncomfortably, “ _part-Veela_ one? Who did she get with?”

Fleur seemed unfazed by Bill’s hushed tones when referencing Sophie’s Veela blood. Hermione found herself narrowing her eyes at Bill.

“She slept with your sister!” Fleur exclaimed, “I never would have picked Ginny for being interested in women!”

“No kidding,” Bill chuckled, “If I had to put money on a Weasley other than me being gay, Ginny definitely would have been my pick.”

“So why didn’t you come, mon ami?” Fleur asked curiously, “I did invite you. You could have met my old school friends.”

“I figured you would be too busy playing house with _her_ ,” Bill said, nodding his head in Hermione’s direction, “Which sounded like a bit of a snoozefest if I’m going to be completely honest with you, darling.”

Hermione rolled her eyes again. Bill really could be a bitch when he wanted to. Still, he was Fleur’s friend. Hermione had to let it go.

Hermione exhaled heavily, continuing to walk alongside the best friends in dutiful silence.

Bill fumbled with his leather jacket, taking out a cigarette and lighter and sparking up.

“Bill! Fleur’s pregnant!” Hermione screeched, swatting the cigarette out of Bill’s hands, “You shouldn’t smoke around a pregnant woman!”

“Oi! Fleur, call your little nerd off, will ya?” Bill growled.

“Don’t call her that, Bill,” Fleur frowned, “Hermione is correct anyway. Cigarette smoke isn’t good for a growing baby.”

They stopped walking and Bill went bright red. Hermione recognized the look a mile away. She had seen it many, many times on Ron. Plus a few times on Ginny. The infamous Weasley temper was about to blow. 

“So now you’re taking her side?” Bill snapped, “You used to take _my side_ without question! We used to spend all our time out of work having wine and gossiping!”

“Bill, I can hardly go for after work wines when I’m pregnant,” Fleur sighed. She was growing impatient with her temperamental friend. Hermione felt herself becoming more protective.

“Yeah, and whose fault was that?” Bill muttered darkly, “Brightest witch of her age doesn’t know to use contraception with a Veela? I’m almost starting to suspect she did it on purpose to lock you down.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes, biting the inside of her cheek to stop herself from snapping back at Bill.

“Bill,” Fleur said slowly, “I know you’re frustrated I have a little less time for you now I’m pregnant. But I need you to be supportive.”

“I know,” Bill said, shrugging, “It must be hard for you. I mean being part-Veela in this society _and_ being knocked up by a woman? I can only imagine how self-conscious you must be feeling.”

Hermione took Fleur’s hand, squeezing tightly.

“Bill, I think it would be best if you stuck to more positive conversation topics,” Hermione said, struggling to keep her voice even.

Bill glared at Hermione, before his eyes flicked down to see Hermione holding hands with Fleur. He snorted contemptuously.

“Really, Fleur?” Bill said, a bite to his voice, “You could do _sooo_ much better, darling. It was bad enough you shagged her.”

Fleur’s eyes narrowed. It seemed Bill had finally hit the limit of Fleur’s patience for him. She opened her mouth to retort, but Hermione snapped first.

“God, Bill, you can be such a fucking _bitch!_ ” Hermione snarled, “You’re supposed to be her best friend. Try acting like it!”

Bill looked affronted, turning to Fleur.

“Babe, are you really going to let her talk to me like that?” Bill asked Fleur, outraged.

Fleur glared at Bill.

“You are being quite unfair, Bill,” Fleur said crossly, “I really wish you could just be supportive.”

“Really?” Bill shot back, “I _am._ I’m considering your image, babe!”

“Stop it!” Hermione barked, stepping between Bill and Fleur, “Stop getting in her head with your own goddamn insecurities!”

Bill raised his eyebrows, looking at Fleur. Fleur kept holding Hermione’s hand and nodded her agreement.

“Fine!” Bill exploded, before storming off.

Hermione and Fleur were left holding hands, watching the handsome redhead stomp off down the street.

“The Weasleys can have such terrible tempers, can’t they?” Hermione sighed, turning to Fleur.

Fleur didn’t respond, hooking a hand behind Hermione’s head and pulled her in for a passionate kiss. Hermione gave a little ‘eep’ of surprise before melting into the kiss. She ran her hands down Fleur’s back before tightly holding the blonde around her waist.

Fleur’s tongue had slipped into Hermione’s mouth and the brunette felt her stomach flip pleasantly.

_‘Wow, if only Cassandra had told me to be bolder earlier…’_ Hermione thought to herself.

Hermione broke the kiss eventually, a glazed smile on her face.

“Er, what was that for?” Hermione asked. Not that she was complaining. Having Fleur held tightly in her arms kissing the life out of her was sublime.

“I like it when you get all protective of me and the baby,” Fleur said quietly, a slight blush creeping across her face.

Hermione rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly.

“I can’t quite help it,” Hermione replied.

Fleur and Hermione resumed their walk down the street. Hermione noticed that Fleur was still holding her hand and smiled wider, quite content.

* * *

It was late when Hermione finally got home with Fleur. Even with bag expanding charms, her arms were stuffed full off shopping bags.

Fleur, for her part, was only holding one small bag. She flipped her platinum hair and walked in ahead of the brunette, her heels clicking on the hardwood floors of Grimmauld Place. Hermione wasn’t complaining though.

It warmed her heart to see how much the blonde had cheered up. That and Hermione really didn’t mind the view when walking behind Fleur.

Fleur turned around, noting Hermione’s eyes looking at her ass again. She gave the brunette a sultry wink.

Hermione blushed, feeling a pleasant warmth rush through her at Fleur’s flirty nature.

“Er, I’ll take the shopping upstairs,” Hermione said bashfully. She took Fleur’s bag off her and then leapt up the stairs and back.

When she came back downstairs, Fleur was frowning and taking her heels off.

“Feet sore?” Hermione asked, arching an eyebrow, “You’re probably getting a little far along to be wearing such high heels.”

“Are you calling me heavy?” Fleur asked dangerously, her eyes narrowing.

“Er—of course not!” Hermione hastily backtracked, “Here, let me give you a massage.”

Hermione sat at the other end of the couch Fleur was on, gesturing for the blonde to put her feet in her lap. Fleur looked a little reluctant at first but relented.

Hermione didn’t waste anymore time, firmly massaging the arch of Fleur’s first foot. Fleur looked like she was about to say something but suddenly let out an involuntary moan, her eyes flickering shut contentedly.

Hermione felt a heat rush through her as her mind turned to far more inventive ways to make Fleur moan.

“You two are quite cosy, non?”

Hermione looked up and Fleur’s eyes opened, both noticing they were no longer alone. Sophie was sitting across from them on the other couch, her legs crossed primly.

“Oh! You’re still here!” Hermione exclaimed. She went back to massaging Fleur’s sore feet.

“Oui, I have been spending some time with your friends Harry and Ron,” Sophie beamed, cocking her head to one side, “Ginny said she had to pop out to run a couple of errands but would be right back… Although that was some time ago…”

Sophie frowned a little as she realized the time. Fleur looked like she felt a little bad for her friend.

“Did she say anything-- Ohhh _Merde_ , don’t stop Hermione!” Fleur’s train of thought was cut off as Hermione hit a particularly sensitive spot while massaging. Hermione blushed to the roots of her hair at the sound of pure pleasure she had elicited from the blonde.

Sophie noticed Hermione’s blush and chuckled.

“Should I be giving you two some alone time?” Sophie teased.

Fleur, having regained her senses, frowned at her friend’s teasing.

“Don’t be so— _God! Harder, Hermione!_ ” Fleur whimpered, her eyes shutting.

The kitchen door flung open and Ron bowled in, eyes wide. His eyes caught sight of the girls on the couches and his shoulders slumped slightly.

“Oh, you’re just giving her a massage,” Ron groaned, disappointed, “Say, Sophie, if Ginny never comes back, I could always take you out to dinner?”

“Or you could have dinner with us all,” Hermione offered, still massaging Fleur. She’d finished massaging Fleur’s feet now and her hands had drifted to massaging Fleur’s ankles and slender calves.

She had to remind herself that she was in front of others, and stilled her hands. When she looked up at Fleur’s face, the blonde’s eyes were glazed. Hermione felt her heart beat hard in her chest. It really did seem like she was winning the blonde over more and more.

“Erm, thanks,” Fleur withdrew her legs from Hermione’s lap a little self-consciously, “I might go upstairs and take a shower before dinner.”

Hermione nodded dumbly, not trusting herself to say anything intelligible after the way Fleur had looked at her.

As Fleur left the room, Ron hoisted himself over the back of the couch, landing beside Hermione.

“I haven’t decided what to cook us all for dinner tonight,” Ron said, before wiggling his eyebrows at Sophie, “I am quite good at cooking, you see.”

Hermione groaned.

“Well, as insufferable as he is being, he actually is quite a good cook,” Hermione admitted to Sophie.

“I could cook us up some French cuisine,” Ron offered, propping his hands up behind his head.

“Maybe,” Sophie said, a little uncertain, “So how did the conversation with Fleur go last night?”

“Fantastic, thanks, Sophie,” Hermione grinned, “I think for once we’re finally on the same page.”

“Oh that is so good to hear,” Sophie smiled good-naturedly, “And today went well?”

“Yeah… Well, mostly,” Hermione shrugged, “We went shopping for baby stuff but Fleur had a bit of a tiff with her best friend. Ron, you wouldn’t mind having a word to Bill about being more supportive, would you?”

Ron looked like he was about to whine before he looked at Sophie again. He smoothed back his hair and grinned with exaggerated graciousness.

“Well, of course, Hermione,” Ron said theatrically, “You know I do anything for my loved ones.”

Hermione rolled her eyes.

She was saved from further Ron antics by her phone ringing. She looked at the screen. Alexandre.

“Hello?” Hermione answered, getting up and walking to another room.

“Salut, Hermione,” Alexandre greeted cheerfully, “We were just wondering how you and our Fleur are going after our last conversation. Has Fleur talked to you about what Cassandra alluded to?”

“Yes, she explained that I am most likely her mate,” Hermione replied, “As well as the fact that it does not mean I cannot love anyone else, but it does mean I am her one shot at love. She seemed quite stressed about it.”

Hermione heard Alexandre laugh on the other end of the line.

“She has always been very cautious with her heart,” Alexandre said gently, “I just hope you will treat her carefully. I do worry about my Fleur.”

“Of course I will, sir,” Hermione assured, “I care a great deal about keeping Fleur and the baby safe and happy.”

“I trust you, Hermione,” Alexandre said. Hermione could hear a smile in his voice, “You are a good woman. Now, to the reason for my phone-call. Apolline and I were thinking it might make a nice birthday surprise if we were to come to visit Fleur. We would even bring Gabrielle and Cassandra with us. Do you think that Fleur would like that for her birthday? I have tried to get a read from her over the phone… But you know how veiled Fleur can be.”

“Do I ever,” Hermione chuckled, “Wait! It’s Fleur’s birthday soon?!”

Alexandre laughed.

“Oh, I should have known. How very like her to keep that to herself,” Alexandre replied, “Yes, her birthday is on Thursday next week. Now, if I can just get all the paperwork for Cassandra, Apolline and Gabrielle in order for the Department of Magical Creatures there… We should be able to arrive Thursday afternoon. That would make good timing for a surprise, non?”

“Absolutely,” Hermione responded, her mind already whirring.

“Magnifique! Well, I will not keep you any longer,” Alexandre replied jovially, “I will message you with any details. Au revoir, Hermione!”

“Bye!” Hermione hung up, staring blankly at the screen of her phone.

A birthday.

Fleur’s birthday.

What on Earth is an appropriate gift for ‘someone you like, who likes you back, who is carrying your child and you also kiss sometimes’?

Hermione groaned. She had a horrible feeling her brains wouldn’t be much use with this challenge.


	18. Chapter 18

“Hermione,”

Hermione awoke feeling warm and cosy. _Too_ warm and cosy.

She became aware that her face was nestled into a soft expanse of skin. Her face was firmly buried in Fleur’s cleavage. Hermione, still drowsy, kept it there as she tried to place the voice calling her in from slumber.

“Hermiiiione,” the sweet voice called again.

Hermione murmured sleepily and nuzzled her face in further.

“Hermione, I need you to get your face out of there, mon ami,” the voice was sweet like syrup, with a French accent teasing at Hermione’s ears.

_Fleur._

Hermione realized she had her face nuzzled in Fleur’s pregnancy enhanced cleavage and wrenched her head up so fast it made her neck click.

She came face to face with bright azure eyes that were thoroughly amused.

“Er, sorry, Fleur,” Hermione mumbled. She was flush up against the woman with her arms tightly around her.

“It is okay, Hermione,” Fleur said gently, her eyes still mirthful, “But I need to get up for work.”

“Right,” Hermione agreed.

Fleur smirked and arched an eyebrow.

“So if you could take your hands off my ass so I could get out of bed?” Fleur suggested.

Hermione yelped and removed her hands from where they were placed, firmly holding Fleur’s rear.

“Er, sorry again,” Hermione apologized profusely, sitting up and scooting back so she was sitting against the bedhead. Her hair was tousled from sleep and one of the shoulders of her singlet had fallen down, revealing more of her olive skin than she usually felt comfortable revealing.

“It is okay, but I have a schedule to meet,” Fleur smiled serenely. She ran her hand through her silky platinum hair, preening it to perfection.

As she stood up, Hermione let her eyes rake Fleur’s body, settling on the baby bump. Fleur was nearing her third trimester now. They were more than halfway through. Only a few more months until they would meet their baby boy.

Fleur sashayed around the room, getting herself ready for work. She put on a nice dress and did her makeup, before looking at her large collection of shoes.

“You shouldn’t wear heels if you’re going to be on your feet all day,” Hermione advised. Fleur groaned and rolled her eyes.

“Hermione, it is one of the few niceties I have left when it comes to my appearance,” Fleur huffed.

“Fleur,” Hermione sighed, “How many times do I have to tell you? You still look incredibly beautiful.”

Hermione was all too aware of that fact, the wetness and throbbing between her legs making it hard to concentrate. The delightful manner in which she had awoken was making it hard to focus on being supportive of the blonde. All she really wanted to do was pull Fleur back into bed and tear her clothes right back off again.

But they were taking things _slow._

They hadn’t even talked about things since the last Grimmauld Place party.

While they ended up snogging at least once a day these days, Hermione was still very much interested in taking it further. She wanted to date Fleur. She wanted to call Fleur her girlfriend. She wanted, Merlin permitting, to at the very least shag Fleur one more time.

She was falling more and more each day for the blonde.

While she had always been aware of Fleur’s physical appeal (and, God, that awareness had spiked in recent months), the more time she spent with Fleur, the more it was mingling with an emotional attraction.

Fleur was very shy and reserved, similar to Alexandre. She was also quite creative, often working on styling Grimmauld Place or pulling together bits and pieces to make art for their room.

Her default when uncomfortable had always been to close off even more and get cold. But the more time Hermione spent with the blonde, the more the blonde grew comfortable around her. More often, conversations turned into playful teasing or earnest chats instead of cold silence.

Hermione didn’t like to think about how easily she could have missed seeing this side of Fleur. She always used to write Fleur off as arrogant and cold. While she was, there was _so_ much more to her.

Fleur, in turn, was very curious about the brunette. She asked many questions of the prodigy, making Hermione’s exam study difficult. But she couldn’t be too annoyed at the blonde. It was adorable how casual Fleur tried to play it when she was very interested in something. She would flit around Hermione, playing with her hair, an aloof look on her face.

“Up to much today?” Fleur asked, checking her hair in the mirror.

There it was, pretending not to be interested, yet so obviously eager to hear what Hermione was planning to do with her day. Hermione suppressed a smile.

“Just more study,” Hermione shrugged.

In truth, she was taking a rare break from study. It was the day before Fleur’s birthday and Hermione had to stop procrastinating and find the woman a birthday gift. She was going to head out shopping with Harry and Ron.

The boys would head off to play Quidditch at midday, despite being woefully unprepared for their own exams. At that point, Hermione would meet up with Ginny if she hadn’t found anything good.

“Studying anything interesting?” Fleur asked casually, now fixing her makeup.

“Oh, you know, still the same old things,” Hermione shrugged, “I should really put aside some time to prepare for the job interview I have coming up at the Ministry, though. Professor Helios did seem to put in a lot of effort arranging it.”

“A job interview?” Fleur echoed, “You never told me about that. Where is it?”

Hermione swung herself out of bed, stretching and digging her toes into the rug beside the bed. She stifled a yawn.

“Well, we’ve had more pressing things going on with you and the baby,” Hermione said dismissively, “The job is at the Department of Magical Creatures. I’m hoping to work in their policy department. There are many things in that area well overdue for updating.”

“Really?” Fleur asked, turning to face Hermione. She quirked an eyebrow. Her ability to hide her interest was beginning to slip.

“Yes, really,” Hermione smiled, “I dream of a world where you and our son wouldn’t have to fill in a stack of extra paperwork to go to a country or face prejudice.”

Fleur rested a hand on her pregnant stomach, stepping close to Hermione. A smile grew on her face as she gazed at Hermione. The brunette felt her stomach flip, an all too familiar sensation when it came to Fleur.

“I remember when I went to Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament,” Fleur said slowly, her smile growing, “You had a society then for protecting house elves. Terrible name, but amazing cause.”

“S.P.E.W?” Hermione brightened, “I still don’t see why people hated the name so much. I can’t believe you noticed it! Even more, I can’t believe you remember it!”

Fleur beamed, showing her perfect white teeth. It was rare to get Fleur so relaxed that she smiled so widely. It was enough to make Hermione’s heart melt.

“Of course I noticed,” Fleur said quietly, “You were the brightest witch of your year and it was an amazing cause. I didn’t think anyone here cared about creature rights but there you were.”

Fleur was very close now and Hermione was finding it harder to concentrate. It was easy to get lost in Fleur’s sapphire eyes. They expressed all the emotion that Fleur carefully held back.

Fleur leaned in suddenly, kissing Hermione.

Hermione kissed back, her hands creeping to their spot on Fleur’s hips. Fleur’s hands clasped behind Hermione’s neck, tightening a little as Hermione deepened the kiss.

When the kiss broke, Hermione sighed happily. Fleur smiled at her, her slender fingers idly drawing circles on Hermione’s shoulders.

“Aren’t you going to be late?” Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow.

Fleur let out a disappointed sigh.

“Oui,” Fleur replied, “But we can finish this later.”

“Talking about my job prospects?” Hermione asked.

“Oui, but also _this,_ ” Fleur leaned in and kissed Hermione gently. It was brief, she pulled away almost instantly, but Hermione felt a thrill rush through her. Sometimes even the most chaste kiss from Fleur could totally scramble Hermione’s brilliant mind.

“I… Gah…” Hermione cursed how slow her brain was in the wake of a simple kiss from Fleur.

Fleur shot her a satisfied smirk.

“You are so cute,” Fleur commented, flipping her hair over her shoulder, “Okay, I really do need to go. Au revoir!”

She leaned in and pecked Hermione on the cheek before gliding out the door.

Hermione sighed heavily like a lovestruck fool, padding over to the mirror to attempt to tame her tangled curls. She grinned goofily at the sight of Fleur’s lipstick on her lips and cheek. She liked the feeling of being Fleur’s, as much as she loved the thought of Fleur being hers.

Hopefully, she could bowl Fleur away enough on her birthday that they could finally have the talk about taking things to the next level.

* * *

Hermione wandered about the department store cluelessly with Harry and Ron.

“Seriously, guys! It’s important that I get her something that blows her away!” Hermione said desperately to Harry and Ron.

“Everyone loves a broom, ‘Mione!” Harry insisted, clutching a broom catalogue. Hermione rolled her eyes.

“In what world would a heavily pregnant woman be hitting the Quidditch pitch?” Hermione said sardonically.

“Why so much pressure?” Ron asked, tossing a Sneak-O-Scope up and down. He had been incredibly confused when Hermione had vetoed his suggestion to get Fleur’s gift from Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes.

“Because I want her to be my girlfriend,” Hermione said, blushing and looking away.

The boys dropped the Sneak-O-Scope and broom catalogue in surprise.

“Really?” Harry asked, raising his eyebrows, “I didn’t know things had taken that turn!”

Hermione blushed darker, rubbing the back of her neck.

“Well… We have been kissing quite a bit lately…” Hermione said bashfully, rubbing the back of her neck.

Ron swore.

“You lucky sod!” Ron exclaimed jealously, “God… Imagine if _I’d_ been the one to knock her up…”

“You would’ve still had to seduce her in the first place,” Hermione shot back, “Anyway, nothing is official or anything yet. But I really would like it to be. I think if I get her a thoughtful gift it might be the thing that makes her want to be in an honest-to-Merlin relationship with me.”

“Or, I dunno, you could just ask her out?” Ron replied, kicking at the floor.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

“I think a thoughtful gift really would be a broom,” Harry said earnestly, “Hear me out, they have a new Firebolt III out in the market now!”

“Merlin! You boys are no help!” Hermione groaned.

Harry and Ron shrugged apologetically, before sloping off to play Quidditch.

Hermione was fretting quite a bit about the gift for Fleur by the time she met up with Ginny.

Ginny ran up to meet her, doubling over and panting when she skidded to a stop. She was in a state of disarray. She was wearing a short torn jean skirt and a white tee, a plaid button-up tied around her waist. Her flaming hair was flowing past her shoulders.

“Are you okay, Gin?” Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows.

“Fi-fine,” Ginny panted, straigtening up again, “I’ve just had quite a bit of nervous energy lately so I’ve been trying to take every opportunity to be active to burn it off.”

“Nervous energy?” Hermione asked, a little concerned, “What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing,” Ginny said evasively, “So, did you find a gift for Fleur?”

“Nope,” Hermione groaned, running a hand through her hair, “Harry and Ron were absolutely hopeless.”

“Well, duh,” Ginny replied, rolling her eyes, “Have you seen what they’re like with girls?”

“Honestly, I don’t know what I’m going to do, Gin,” Hermione sighed, “I just want to make her birthday special. I really want her to be my girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” Ginny replied, “Wow, you have come a LONG way, Hermione! Okay, well what does she like?”

“Girly things,” Hermione replied, scrunching up her nose, “Fashion, art…”

“Hermione,” Ginny chided, “Think!”

“Er, she loves her baby sister,” Hermione shrugged.

“You could think of a way to help her keep in contact with her sister more easily?” Ginny asked, “I know you can’t just get her sister a phone since wizarding schools have charms in place to interfere with Muggle technology.”

“Hmmm… But what can I give her?” Hermione asked, tapping her chin. She was perplexed.

“I’m sure you’ll think of something,” Ginny replied encouragingly.

They walked down the street together aimlessly, unsure of which shop to go to. Hermione noticed her redheaded friend was looking upset.

“Okay, seriously, what is going on with you?” Hermione asked. She had never seen Ginny quite like this.

“Nothing,” Ginny grumbled, kicking at a stone on the street.

_‘Wait for it…’_ Hermione thought inwardly.

Ginny was a creature of habit and Hermione knew that she could never hold back what was bothering her for long.

“I think I like girls as well as boys,” Ginny said, cringing.

Hermione tried not to smile at the redhead.

“Well, I’m not surprised considering the predicament you ended up in with Sophie,” Hermione said carefully.

Ginny cringed again.

“I mean… Her hair was just so silky and soft…. And her lips… Merlin!” Ginny sighed.

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with that,” Hermione said honestly, “Obviously I know a little bit about what you’re going through. Just don’t overthink it.”

“Don’t overthink it!” Ginny exclaimed, “Merlin, who would have thought we would ever end up in a situation where _you_ would be the one giving _me_ that advice!”

Hermione laughed. Things sure had changed a lot.

* * *

Soon, it was Fleur’s birthday.

Hermione had spent much of the day in a last minute tailspin, hurriedly arranging a gift for Fleur.

The blonde had got up early for work. So early that Hermione had not even been able to see her in the morning.

But now she was patiently waiting outside Gringotts for the blonde.

Fleur stepped outside, the sun shining on her white-blonde hair, making it glitter with its silver quality. She was wearing a nice dress and heels. Hermione was relieved—she wouldn’t have to come up with a gambit to get Fleur to change for dinner.

Hermione was leaning against a railing, her hands behind her back. She had taken extra care to organize her curls into some semblance of tidiness. She had dressed tidily in some tailored checkered pants, rolled up to show her ankle and neatly polished black brogues. She had tucked in a crisp white dress shirt that was tailored perfectly to fit her figure. Her brunette curls tumbled loosely over the shoulders of the shirt.

It appeared she had polished up well enough, judging from the way Fleur’s eyes lit up when she spotted her.

“You… Wow…”

It was not often that Fleur was left wanting for words. Or showing her reactions so freely. Hermione felt herself buoyed by the reaction she had elicited from the blonde. Fleur was all but slack jawed.

“Happy birthday, Fleur,” Hermione smiled.

Fleur’s eyebrows raised.

“I never told you it was my birthday,” Fleur said, surprised.

Hermione winked, loving the way she was throwing Fleur off.

“I have my ways,” Hermione grinned, offering her arm to the woman, “Now, I believe we have a dinner reservation to meet.”

Fleur took her arm, still smiling with surprise.

Hermione led her on a pleasant walk through the streets as the sun set.

“What have you organized, Hermione?” Fleur asked. To Hermione’s amusement, she was doing the thing where she tried to appear like she was barely interested, when really she was dying of curiosity.

“Oh, you wouldn’t be interested,” Hermione teased, “You’ll find out when we get there.”

Fleur pouted, trying to be patient and keep her composure.

She lasted less than five minutes.

“Ohhh, come on, Hermione! Tell me where we are going!” Fleur whined. Hermione giggled.

“Oh, I’m not sure I should tell you… You are the birthday girl after all…” Hermione grinned wider, tapping her chin with mock-thoughtfulness.

Fleur lost her patience then, suddenly twisting and pinning Hermione to the wall of a nearby shop.

“Do not mess with a pregnant woman, amour,” Fleur challenged, her eyes glittering with silver specks.

Hermione giggled more.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Fleur,” Hermione smiled, “We’re here.”

The French term of endearment was not lost on Hermione, boosting her mood even more. Fleur released her, looking around curiously.

“There are only closed shops here, Hermione,” Fleur said, confused.

Hermione smoothed her shirt and hair, beaming at Fleur.

“Closed shops _and_ one of London’s most exclusive eateries,” Hermione winked.

She stepped forward, tapping an intricate pattern on the wall that Fleur had just pressed her against. The bricks shifted and moved, revealing an emerald door and a small sign.

Fleur gasped.

“Milton’s! I have been wanting to come here for years!” Fleur exclaimed, clapping her hands together, “But it is near impossible to get a booking! They only take one group at a time and it makes it so hard to get a booking!”

“I may have flexed my Golden Trio status for once…” Hermione said, shrugging, “I don’t like the fame, but it was worth it to see the look on your face right now.”

Fleur leaned forward and kissed Hermione passionately. Hermione felt herself swoon at the sudden affection of the blonde and had to remind herself that it wasn’t _her_ birthday.

“Merci, Hermione!” Fleur beamed, breaking the kiss, “What a fantastic birthday surprise.”

“Oh—it’s not over yet,” Hermione grinned, taking Fleur’s hand.

She opened the door and led Fleur down a dimly lit staircase. She could feel Fleur practically squirming with curiosity.

They got to the bottom of the staircase to the small intricate dining room of Milton’s. A large table was in the middle of the room, prettily decorated with flowers and candles. Around the table were the Delacours, Bill, Harry and Ron.

“Mon Dieu!” Fleur exclaimed.

Her family got up and rushed up to hug both Hermione and Fleur, startling the brunette. She wheezed as the group hug crushed her. She supposed it wasn’t quite an appropriate place to morph into cat form to wriggle out of it.

Finally, the Delacours released Hermione and Fleur.

“Hey, Hermione!” Gabrielle greeted, “Maman and Papa let me out of school especially for this trip!”

“Lucky girl!” Hermione smiled, tousling Gabrielle’s pretty blonde hair.

“You clean up well, Hermione,” Alexandre commented, backed up by an emphatic nod from Apolline.

“And you are positively _glowing_ Fleur!” Cassandra purred, eying Fleur with a proud smile.

Fleur shrugged, dismissively, although she looked quietly pleased.

“I am pregnant,” Fleur replied. Cassandra shook her head.

“It is more than that, dear child,” Cassandra beamed, looking between Fleur and Hermione approvingly.

“Okay, let’s give our Fleur some space,” Alexandre interrupted politely, ushering the Delacour clan back to their seats at the table.

Bill stood up, approaching Fleur sheepishly.

He was formally dressed and looking impeccable. He was wearing a white shirt and a forest green tie clipped back with a gold tie clip, paired with some black suit pants. His hair was loose today, wavy and reaching just below his shoulders. He had groomed it to perfection, reminding Hermione of a more lively Lucius Malfoy style. He had also carefully trimmed his beard for the occasion so it was looking more tidy than it usually did. There was no fang earring in sight.

He was fumbling with a small gift wrapped in bright blue wrapping paper.

“Fleur… I just want to say I’m sorry for acting like an ass lately,” Bill said, eyes downcast guiltily, “I guess I do have my own issues and it’s unfair to project all that on you.”

Fleur smiled gracefully, erupting butterflies within Hermione’s stomach.

“Bill, we encourage each other,” Fleur replied with a smile, “Sometimes the good things within us, sometimes the bad. Thank you for apologizing, it means a lot.”

Bill pulled Fleur into a hug, kissing her on the cheek. When he withdrew, he handed her the gift.

They all took their seats, Hermione sitting close beside Fleur.

Fleur looked delighted as gifts were handed to her, excitedly unwrapping them immediately. Hermione had wisely brought her satchel to carry home Fleur’s gifts, which turned out to be a godsend as the Delacours showered Fleur with a great number of gifts.

Bill’s gift to Fleur turned out to be a pocket edition of _Advanced Cursebreaking: Tomb Raider Edition_ to the pleasure of the blonde. Harry and Ron had gone in together on a nice book on interior design which Fleur very much appreciated.

“I guess that leaves my gift,” Hermione said, suddenly shy. She hoped Fleur would like it. In the end, she hadn’t spent a cent on the gift. After seeing all the lavish gifts from Fleur’s family, it had Hermione worrying that Fleur might not like it.

She handed Fleur her gift, humbly wrapped in brown paper and twine.

“Merci, Hermione,” Fleur thanked her, excitedly unwrapping it.

“It isn’t much…” Hermione mumbled, rubbing the back of her neck.

Fleur unwrapped the package, revealing two ornate hand mirrors. A couple of years earlier, Harry had gifted the two mirrors, in a broken state, to Hermione. He had previously used them to communicate with Sirius when he was alive and for him they held too many painful memories. He gave them to Hermione to give her a project—fixing the mirrors. He had hoped that eventually she could find a more positive use for them. With Harry’s blessing, Hermione had fixed them up in order to gift them to Fleur.

“They work as a communication device,” Hermione explained, “You have one, Gabrielle can have the other one… Then whenever you like, you can look in the mirror and see one another.”

“Magnifique!” Fleur exclaimed, overjoyed. Gabrielle, on Fleur’s other side, reached over and grabbed one of the mirrors, overcome with excitement.

“I do hope you like it,” Hermione said bashfully.

“I _love_ it! It is so perfect!” Fleur gushed, leaning in and kissing Hermione on the cheek, “You always find a way to spoil me!”

Hermione blushed. Harry shot her a discreet thumbs-up from across the table. Ron was too busy gaping at Cassandra quite openly, making the odd gurgling noise between shovelfuls of food. It gave Hermione further encouragement that she and Harry were gifted with being able to withstand a Veela thrall.

“So how has it been living with this lot?” Alexandre asked Fleur, gesturing at the Golden Trio.

Fleur smirked.

“Well… The accommodation needed a lot of redecoration,” Fleur replied, “It was lacking a feminine touch.”

“Hey!” Hermione rolled her eyes and shoved Fleur playfully.

“It is looking really nice now,” Harry conceded, “Almost like a modern home! She’s done really well with not erasing any memories of my late Godfather but getting rid of all the memories of his bigoted family.”

“It’s… Beautiful…” Ron sighed, his eyes firmly on Cassandra.

Gabrielle giggled.

“Hermione, I think your friend is very susceptible to the Veela thrall,” Gabrielle commented. Effectively proving Gabrielle’s point, Ron didn’t even notice her comment, continuing to gaze at Gabrielle’s grandmother instead.

To Hermione’s relief, the Delacours found this amusing, laughing instead of getting annoyed.

The rest of the dinner went well, amiable conversation flowing. Bill was in good spirits and seemed eager to get along with Fleur after their falling out, although Hermione did notice he still wasn’t talking to _her_ that much.

As they all rose to head off after the meal, Cassandra approached Hermione and pulled her to one side.

Her strangely youthful face was watching Hermione intensely. Hermione again felt the undercurrent of danger that always accompanied Cassandra’s warm demeanor.

“You and Fleur are getting closer,” Cassandra announced, in her oddly hypnotic voice.

“We are,” Hermione nodded, “Did she say something?”

“No, but I can see it,” Cassandra smiled, “The closer your bond becomes, the more you thrive. Fleur is looking more radiant than ever. She looks incredibly healthy. You must be feeling the changes too.”

Hermione tried to think. Since the regular snogging had happened, she had been feeling on top of the world. She had just put that down to enjoying kisses from Fleur.

Now she thought about it, she had been incredibly productive with her studying, even though she had been more distracted than ever. She’d also been feeling well rested and noticing she wasn’t getting as puffed as usual when running up and down the stairs.

“Wow… I guess so…” Hermione conceded, “So what does it mean, if we continue, erm, getting closer?”

Cassandra smiled wider.

“Well, you will have a choice to make, Hermione,” Cassandra said softly, “Eventually the bond will progress so far you will have to make the active decision to accept her as your mate, or not.”

“Oh! Well, why can’t I just do that now?” Hermione asked eagerly.

Cassandra silenced her with a slender finger on her lips.

“Non,” Cassandra said abruptly, “Right now either of you can walk away without getting hurt. Fleur wouldn’t be able to date again, but she would be healthy and happy. But once you accept the bond, you will not be able to leave the relationship. You will both fall terribly ill.”

“Oh… I see…” Hermione said, the brevity of the situation hitting home, “How long until I have to make that decision?”

Cassandra shrugged.

“It is difficult to say, but it will be obvious when you reach that point,” Cassandra said. Hermione hated how vague Cassandra could be, but didn’t want to argue the point.

“Hermione, are you coming?” Fleur called from over by her parents, sister and Bill, “Harry and Ron have already apparated home.” 

Cassandra ran a hand down Hermione’s shoulder slowly.

“Au revoir, Hermione,” Cassandra purred, “Do think on what we have discussed.”

“Er, I will,” Hermione nodded.

She walked over to Fleur, kissing her on the cheek. She took Fleur’s hand and led her out of the restaurant, her mind deep in thought on what Cassandra had told her.


	19. Chapter 19

Hermione walked home with Fleur, hand in hand.

The blonde seemed in high spirits, she couldn’t stop smiling.

Hermione was happy that she had given the Fleur a good birthday, but couldn’t quite take her mind off what Cassandra had told her. She wondered if Fleur really knew. She hadn’t really broached the subject. But then, it was unlike Fleur to bring it up even if she did know.

“So… The implications of accepting a bond as mates…” Hermione boldly threw it out there.

Fleur’s grip tightened on Hermione’s hand a little and her smile dampened.

“It hasn’t come to that moment yet,” Fleur replied carefully.

“But do you want it to?” Hermione asked.

Fleur looked away, impassive.

Hermione could tell Fleur was hiding her thoughts from her again.

“Fleur… You can tell me,” Hermione implored, “You know I have your best interests at heart.”

Fleur bit her lip, her expression softening. She looked quite vulnerable, but Hermione liked seeing Fleur with her guard down.

“I… I would like it if we bonded, yes,” Fleur said shyly, “But that won’t come for some time.”

“Have you been intentionally not letting me get too close because of it?” Hermione queried. Fleur looked increasingly uncomfortable.

“Maybe,” Fleur said, “The sooner we reach that point of decision, the sooner all this has to change…”

“Are you afraid I won’t pick you?” Hermione asked.

Fleur didn’t reply. Hermione patiently waited, but a response never came. She assumed it was far too sensitive an issue for Fleur.

Deciding not to push the issue on the blonde’s birthday, Hermione changed the subject to lighter topics.

“So… Did you have a good birthday?” Hermione asked.

Fleur’s features softened again.

“Oui!” Fleur replied, “The day started off a bit tough. There was a lot to do and I wasn’t able to apply to go away on a site visit to a tomb in Egypt next month.”

“Fleur! You’re quite pregnant! You shouldn’t be signing up for those things anyway,” Herimone chided, “How dangerous is your job anyway? Shouldn’t you be thinking about desk options until you leave to take the options.”

Fleur rolled her eyes.

“Desk work is _so_ boring in the world of Curse Breaking!” Fleur whined.

Hermione shot her a withering look and Fleur at least had the decency to look sheepish.

“…But fine,” Fleur added reluctantly, “I will take it easy and ask not to do field work.”

“Good,” Hermione smiled, pulling Fleur closer by the hand and kissing her cheek. Fleur smiled, her reluctance quickly evaporated.

“The best part of my birthday was the surprise dinner though,” Fleur said, “You’ve really given me a perfect evening.”

They arrived at Grimmauld Place, walking up the path to the front door.

“Well, hopefully the evening is not over yet?” Hermione suggested, raising an eyebrow.

Fleur kissed her, her soft tongue slipping pleasantly into Hermione’s mouth. Hermione felt her pulse race and she found herself pinning the blonde against the front door of Grimmauld Place. She had been so good and restrained for so long, but now she wanted Fleur more than anything. Hermione ran her hands down Fleur’s waist slowly, pressing her body flush against Fleur’s. Her careful restraint was well and truly out the window as she let herself indulge fully.

Fleur let out a little whimper. Hermione felt a rush of arousal at the usually proud and cold Veela melting in her arms. She ran a hand across Fleur’s hip bone. Hermione ached with an urge to spread Fleur’s toned thighs. Her hand crept closer… Nothing could ruin this moment. Nothing—

The front door opened and Fleur fell backwards, pulling Hermione with her. Hermione looked up, beyond frustrated at having her sweet pleasure curtailed.

Ron towered above them, his mouth hanging open.

“I thought I heard someone at the door…” Ron said sheepishly, blushing deeply, “But, er, don’t stop on my account.”

Hermione growled, disentangling herself from the beautiful blonde beneath her. Fleur looked aggravated, her chest heaving and her pupils blown.

Hermione pulled Fleur to her feet, checking to make sure her pregnant Veela was uninjured. Satisfied she was okay, she turned her anger on Ron.

“You sure have impeccable timing,” Hermione all but snarled. Ron looked a little scared, backing away from the flaring temper of his brunette best friend.

“Er, sorry ‘Mione…” Ron mumbled, backing away.

“Hermione, it is okay,” Fleur soothed, running her hand down Hermione’s shoulder. Fleur had a knack for calming Hermione down. Hermione felt her sexual frustration abate, and instead focused on the pretty blonde in front of her.

“Right, well, we’re going upstairs,” Hermione said waspishly to Ron. Fleur shot him an icy glare.

Ron looked even more scared and confused.

“I thought someone was at the door…” Ron repeated weakly as the women disappeared upstairs.

“I’m so sorry about Ronald,” Hermione apologized profusely as they reached their room. Hermione firmly shut the door, locking it to avoid any further interruptions from her best friends.

“It is fine,” Fleur replied silkily, “A natural hazard of having flatmates.”

Hermione nodded, turning around to face Fleur. Her jaw dropped at the sight of Fleur in lacy lingerie. Her mouth felt impossibly dry as she tried to summon some words, any words, to respond to Fleur.

“Er, do you always wear things like that under your work clothes?” Hermione asked, her mind boggling.

Fleur smirked, apparently satisfied at Hermione’s reaction. She stepped forward, clasping her hands behind Hermione’s neck and leaning into her.

“Sometimes,” Fleur teased. Her sapphire eyes were sparkling with a warmth she had scarcely showed before. Hermione felt her heart beat faster.

Fleur leaned in, kissing Hermione’s neck. Hermione sighed contentedly. She let her hands wander over Fleur. They ran from her toned shoulders, down and over the small dimples at the base of Fleur’s back, before clasping her ass. She was in heaven.

Fleur kept kissing at her neck, sometimes nipping playfully. Before Hermione realized it, Fleur’s hands were undoing the buttons at her collar. Hermione yelped and tensed up.

“Don’t be shy,” Fleur purred into her ear. It was enough to make Hermione’s resolve break.

“I… My scars…” Hermione managed to get out.

Fleur got a few more buttons undone, roughly pulling Hermione’s shirt open enough to show her olive chest. She dropped her soft lips to one of the angry white scars that slashed across Hermione’s collarbone.

Hermione felt her body relax again as Fleur kissed every new scar she discovered, worshipping them as if they were the most beautiful features of Hermione.

“I have seen them before, Hermione,” Fleur said between kisses, “They just make you look stronger… Sexier…”

The gentle accented voice of Fleur was enough to bring any man or woman to their knees. Hermione cocked her head back, letting out a small moan as Fleur removed her shirt entirely.

“Gods, Fleur,” Hermione uttered.

Fleur was kissing her way down towards Hermione’s cleavage. Her delicate hands were on Hermione’s ribs but slipped behind the brunette to unclasp her bra in an instant.

Strangely, Hermione was not as self conscious as her bra was removed and she was left bare chested. It felt a little strange to have her breasts exposed in a fully lit room for once, but that was quickly forgotten as a nipple was taken into Fleur’s gentle mouth. Hermione let out a pleasured gasp, her eyes flickering shut.

Fleur let out a small noise of satisfaction before moving to her other nipple, swirling her tongue teasingly around Hermione’s stiffened nipple. Hermione was getting a head rush at some of her more private fantasies coming true all at once.

Fleur stopped and straightened up, smirking at Hermione.

“You like that?” Fleur teased.

Utterly speechless, Hermione just nodded dumbly. Her eyes raked down the ravishing blonde in front of her, noting that Fleur’s own nipples were hard and protruding against the lacy fabric of her bra. Something broke within Hermione at the sight and she reached behind Fleur’s neck, pulling her in roughly for a passionate kiss. She pushed her tongue into Fleur’s mouth, her hands squeezing at the blonde’s breasts.

Fleur, growing more flustered, fumbled her hands to Hermione’s belt. She unbuckled it and undid Hermione’s fly. Hermione felt herself positively aching with how wet she was for Fleur.

Their kiss broke and Fleur roughly pulled down Hermione’s underwear and pants, sinking to her knees. Hermione’s eyes widened. Her pants were around her ankles and Fleur was kneeling before her, looking up at her with a hunger that was driving Hermione wild. It was like pure adrenaline running through her veins. Suddenly it no longer mattered that she was entirely naked in a well-lit room.

But as much as she hated herself for doing it, she had to check that Fleur and the baby were okay.

“Are you and the baby okay like that?” Hermione asked, her voice strangled. She was going to break out in a sweat soon if she didn’t get any relief.

“Hermione,” Fleur purred, running her hands up the back of Hermione’s thighs, “You need to,” she dropped a kiss on the inside of Hermione’s thigh, “stop thinking,” she kissed higher, “and let your mind go blank…”

Hermione groaned as Fleur’s kisses reached her neatly trimmed crotch. She couldn’t take her eyes off the beautiful blonde on her knees before her. It was unlike any sexual encounter she had experienced so far.

“Oh, Fleur…” Hermione sighed as Fleur’s silky tongue slid through her folds in an exploratory lick, causing Hermione’s entire body to tremble.

Hermione’s hand shakily made its way down to stroke Fleur’s soft, glossy hair. She loved Fleur Delacour, she knew that now. She wasn’t sure how it had snuck up on her but she could feel it with every fibre of her being. The way she found her adorable, the protectiveness she felt for her, and not to mention the total mindblowing pleasure Fleur could bring her with a single touch.

Fleur licked again, painfully slowly, her tongue flicking at the small nub of Hermione’s clit. Hermione let out a gasp of pleasure.

Her eyes locked with deep sapphire. Fleur’s mouth was occupied, but her eyes were speaking volumes in terms of teasing and affection. For the first time since life had thrown them together, Hermione felt like their communication lines were properly open.

Fleur’s tongue swirled and Hermione’s hips jerked as she moaned, inadvertently fisting her hand in Fleur’s hair. Fleur seemed to enjoy it, her eyes growing almost feral with hunger, the silver flecks evident again.

The swirling sped up and Hermione found Fleur’s name tumbling out of her mouth, followed by several expletives she had never even used before.

This was it, this was paradise. If ever Hermione were to look in the Mirror of the Erised again, she would only ever see Fleur’s sweet tongue pleasuring her in earnest.

Fleur’s lapping was fast but calculated, building up something inside Hermione that was quickly becoming almost unbearable. Hermione’s hand tugged at Fleur’s hair in mounting anticipation, causing the blonde to moan against her. The vibration and sound of the moan pushed Hermione over the edge and she saw stars as she shuddered, gasping Fleur’s name. She rode the high, hand still firmly entangled in Fleur’s silky hair, wondering vaguely how on Earth she had ever got so lucky.

Hermione released Fleur’s hair as she finally began to come down from what would go down as one of the strongest orgasms she had experienced in her life. Her knees felt weak, but she helped Fleur to her feet, panting.

“Fleur… That was amazing,” Hermione gasped.

Fleur grinned.

“Consider it your reward for spoiling me on my birthday,” Fleur said coyly. She looked rather satisfied with herself. Hermione couldn’t blame her. That was hands down the best oral sex she had ever received.

Hermione exhaled shakily, wrapping her arms around Fleur.

“I… Really like you, Fleur,” Hermione murmured, nestling her face against Fleur’s neck. Fleur seemed to relax in her arms.

“I like you too, Hermione,” Fleur replied shyly.

Hermione felt her heart swoon. It never ceased to be adorable how shy the usually impassive Fleur got when it came to her feelings. She released Fleur and the blonde turned away from her, gliding towards the bed. Hermione couldn’t take her eyes off the tantalizing way Fleur’s hips swayed as she walked.

“W-what are you doing?” Hermione asked, her mouth growing dry again.

“Going to bed,” Fleur replied simply, “Will you join me?”

“Er… I have to find some pyjamas,” Hermione said awkwardly, stepping out of the underwear and pants that were around her ankles.

“No, you don’t,” Fleur replied firmly.

Hermione nodded, following Fleur to bed.

She clambered in beside the Frenchwoman, nestling close beside her. She was struck by just how _right_ it felt for their naked bodies to be flush against each other. Fleur was on her back, smiling at her encouragingly. Hermione was on her side, pressed against her. She moved her hand to rest protectively on Fleur’s baby bump.

Her honey-flecked brown eyes locked with deep sapphire. Fleur didn’t need to say anything, Hermione taking permission from the look in her eyes. Her hands moved up, cupping and squeezing at Fleur’s breasts.

She didn’t even realize she was grinning her head off until Fleur giggled.

“You really do like how they look pregnancy-enhanced, don’t you?” Fleur teased. Hermione chuckled sheepishly.

“They’re quite fantastic,” Hermione admitted.

She let her hand slide back down Fleur’s body, over the baby bump and down to her thighs. Fleur sighed, arching her back and spreading her legs slightly. This is what Hermione had craved. She ran her hand up the inside of Fleur’s thighs with torturous slowness.

Fleur squirmed more, bringing a satisfied smile to Hermione’s face. She loved that she was working the blonde up just as much as she had been worked up moments before. Hermione let out a small gasp of surprise as her hand reached Fleur’s shaved mound, realizing how ridiculously wet the blonde was.

“Is that just your crazy pregnancy hormones?” Hermione asked with wonder.

Fleur’s long dark eyelashes fluttered shut as her breathing grew more uneven.

“Non,” Fleur managed to get out, “Non, it is all you, Hermione.”

Hermione felt another rush of affection and arousal. She slid two fingers tentatively through Fleur’s folds, watching with amazement as Fleur arched and moaned at the touch.

Hermione circled Fleur’s clit, feeling herself growing wet as Fleur whimpered her name and writhed more. Hermione continued circling it with careful fingers, being sure to build the pleasure within the blonde. When Fleur’s hands began to fist at the bedsheets, Hermione slipped her fingers down and inside the Frenchwoman. They slid all the way inside Fleur soundly. Hermione felt a rush at the feeling of warmth and wetness tightly surrounding her fingers.

Fleur let out a strangled moan, throwing her head back. Hermione slid her fingers back out almost all the way before slamming them back in, hard. Fleur practically screamed with pleasure and Hermione felt herself encouraged. She continued to fuck Fleur soundly, relishing the loud noises of pleasure Fleur was emitting.

Fleur seemed truly inhuman in her beauty, her long white-blonde hair fanning across the mattress and her hands fisted so tightly in the sheets that her knuckles were white. Her back was arching and various muscles trembling in her toned body.

Hermione marveled at the sight of the gorgeous woman coming undone at her ministrations.

“Yes, Hermione,” Fleur groaned. Hermione felt the hair on the back of her neck raise at Fleur calling her name in passion.

“Will you be mine?” Hermione all but demanded, her voice rough with arousal.

Her fingers slammed back inside Fleur, curling slightly. Fleur let out a wild moan.

“Yes, Hermione, yes, I’m yours,” Fleur groaned, arching her back even more.

Hermione was drunk on the feeling. This was better than any drug.

“Merlin’s beard I want you,” Hermione groaned, continuing to pump her fingers in and out of Fleur.

“I – unh – want you too,” Fleur whimpered, “Please don’t stop.”

Hermione found herself smirking, loving the rush of having the reserved beauty in such a state.

“I won’t,” Hermione promised breathily, “Not until…”

Fleur’s entire body tensed. Hermione redoubled her efforts, determined to get her over the edge. Hermione Granger never failed at anything, and she wasn’t about to start.

Fleur cried out Hermione’s name one last time, her entire body shaking as she came. Hermione dropped sweet kisses on Fleur’s neck, caressing her through the high. Fleur went limp in Hermione’s arms, breathing heavily.

Her eyes slowly fluttered open and she beamed at Hermione. The affection she was looking at Hermione with was enough to make the brunette’s knees weak all over again.

“That was…” Fleur began slowly, still thoroughly blissed out.

“Amazing,” Hermione finished for her.

Fleur grinned, nuzzling her face into Hermione’s shoulder as the brunette took her tightly in her arms.

“Did you mean it?” Hermione asked, as they settled into cuddling.

“Mean what?” Fleur asked. Her voice was a little hoarse and she sounded like she was beginning to get sleepy.

“That you’ll be mine,” Hermione said gently, “I want you to be my girlfriend.”

“Oui,” Fleur practically purred. The way she was looking at Hermione, it was like her guard was finally, fully down.

Hermione, for the millionth time that evening, felt like she was melting.

“Happy birthday, Fleur,” Hermione murmured happily, cuddling the satisfied part-Veela even tighter.

“Merci, Hermione,” Fleur replied sleepily, before falling fast asleep.

Hermione ran her fingers through Fleur’s long white-blonde hair. She seemed so innocent and vulnerable when she was asleep.

_‘My girlfriend,’_ Hermione thought with happiness.

* * *

Hermione awoke, stretching in the morning light. She felt beyond satisfied after the previous evening.

The brunette rolled over, eager to kiss her now-official girlfriend. She was surprised to see Fleur’s side of the bed empty.

Hermione got up abruptly, fumbling around the room to pull some clothes on.

The prodigy of the Golden Trio padded down the stairs in sweatpants and a wifebeater, stretching a little more. Her arm was protesting the previous evening’s rigorous lovemaking a little, but it had been more than worth it to satisfy Fleur.

A delicious smell reached Hermione, wafting out from the kitchen. Her stomach rumbling, Hermione followed the scent, entering the kitchen of Grimmauld Place.

A record player was on in the corner of the room, playing an old Weird Sisters record.

Harry was sitting at the dining table, tousling his messy black hair while he read a textbook on dueling.

Fleur and Ron were squabbling over plating some waffles. It appeared food trumped Ron’s response to Veela. He had no hint of a blush on his face as he insisted the order should be: waffle, berries, yoghurt, bacon, sausages, syrup.

“Non!” Fleur argued, as if he were her own brother, “It should be waffle, syrup, yoghurt, berries, syrup… and then _maybe_ bacon at a push. You absolutely cannot add sausages to this dish! It is madness!”

“Genius!” Ron corrected, puffing out his chest, “Fine, you make yours _your_ way, and I’ll make mine _my_ way.”

“So inelegant,” Fleur sighed in disappointment. Ron elbowed her.

“Yet so delicious!” Ron retorted, heaping a number of sausages onto his plate.

“You guys have been busy,” Hermione commented, spotting that there was already a plate in front of Harry, a plate at an empty space at the table, black tea, orange juice and coffee on offer.

“Fleur and I were a little restless so decided to cook up a storm,” Ron shrugged, “Not our fault you and Harry decided to sleep the day away.”

Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron, sitting down at the table across from Harry. Ron sat down next to the Boy Who Lived. Harry raised his bright but tired looking eyes from his book.

“I’m bloody stressed about our Auror exams, mate,” Harry groaned, “I really don’t wanna have to repeat.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have left all your studying until the last minute?” Hermione suggested archly. She could never resist teasing the boys about their lack of preparation when it came to study. It was truly appalling that they never learnt their lesson.

“Hardly last minute,” Ron mumbled through a full mouth, “We got a couple days yet! I haven’t even started yet.”

“Oh Merlin,” Hermione commented.

Fleur sat down beside Hermione and smiled knowingly at the brunette. Hermione felt her stomach flip at the memory of what they had got up to the previous evening.

“At least Fleur offered to help me practice dueling this afternoon,” Harry sighed. Hermione’s eyes narrowed as she noticed Fleur – too late – wave at Harry frantically in an attempt to shut him up.

“Harry!” Hermione shrieked, “You are _not_ dueling with my heavily pregnant girlfriend! Fleur! I really expected more from you!”

“Oooh, watch out guys, she only gets bossier!” Ron giggled, gleeful that for once he wasn’t the one in trouble with Hermione.

“Girlfriend?!” Harry echoed.

Hermione and Fleur grinned broadly.

“Well, yeah…” Hermione admitted, “We kind of made it official last night.”

“Way to go, guys!” Harry fist pumped.

Hermione’s response was lost as Fleur pulled her in for a sudden kiss.

Ron made a small gurgling noise.


	20. Chapter 20

Hermione was jerked from sleep by an incessant tapping at her shoulder.

“Mnnn, not now mum,” Hermione murmured sleepily.

“Hermione!” Fleur hissed, “I need you to get up and make me some food!”

Hermione pulled herself into a tight little ball in bed, groaning as she awoke properly.

“Fleur,” Hermione groaned, “I have an exam _and_ a job interview tomorrow!”

“Oh, very well,” Fleur huffed sulkily, “And I was so sure I could think of a very creative way to reward you…”

Hermione sat up straight away, her eyebrows raising.

“Err, what were you thinking?” Hermione asked, glad Fleur couldn’t see her blushing in the darkened room.

Fleur clapped her hands together, delighted.

“Nothing complex,” Fleur said happily, “Just a fried fillet of fish drizzled in chocolate sauce.”

“Eurgh! _Gods,_ Fleur!” Hermione scrunched her nose up, “Your pregnancy cravings are the worst.”

“Hermione,” Fleur growled, “Do not speak that way to the mother of your child.”

Hermione at least had the good sense to be scared of a hormonal Veela, getting up very promptly. She turned on the lamps and saw Fleur’s eyes had the silvery flecks again.

“I’m on it!” Hermione yelped, heading out the door and down the stairs.

When she got to the kitchen, she was surprised to see that the light was already on and Ron was bustling around with an armful of food. He was in stripy pajamas and his hair was tousled.

“You craving a midnight snack too?” Ron asked, his mouth already full of what appeared to be chunk of ham.

“Fleur has pregnancy cravings again,” Hermione yawned, rubbing her eyes with the heel of her hand.

“Oh! Well, what does she feel like?” Ron asked.

“Fried fish smothered in chocolate sauce,” Hermione replied with distaste, wrinkling her nose, “Pregnancy cravings really can be bizarre.”

“Hmm, okay, well I’ll whip that up for you,” Ron said, depositing all his food items on the countertops.

“Really? Why would you do that for me?” Hermione asked, leaning against the table.

“I’m cooking anyway,” Ron replied, grabbing a drumstick from a pile of leftovers and taking a bite, “And you look bloody tired.”

“Oh… Well… Thanks, Ronald,” Hermione replied gratefully, leaning more heavily against the table, “I really am tired.”

Ron chortled.

“Yeah, well, it’s only gonna go downhill in the sleep department once the little tyke actually arrives, ‘Mione,” Ron grinned, setting to work cooking.

Hermione couldn’t help the large grin that grew on her face.

“Yeah… But then I’ll have a _baby,_ Ron,” Hermione replied almost dreamily, “A baby with Fleur.”

“Lucky sod,” Ron commented jealously, “You know you’re the envy of pretty much every wizard and witch alive that fancies women, right?”

“Honestly? I get it now,” Hermione sighed, “She’s… She’s really something, Ron.”

Ron turned to look at Hermione and pulled a face.

“I’ve only been telling you that for years!” Ron exclaimed, “You gave me such a hard time for being into her during Fourth Year.”

“Yes, well, that’s when I didn’t think there was anything much to her besides her arrogance and looks,” Hermione said defensively, “Now I know there’s real depth behind all that.”

“Didn’t know about that depth the first time you jumped into bed with her though, did you?” Ron muttered. Hermione grabbed a nearby sponge and threw it at his back.

“Hey, don’t attack the chef!” Ron whined, “I’ve almost finished!”

“Oh, well, fine,” Hermione said warily, “As long as you don’t say anything else irritating.”

Ron rolled his eyes but nonetheless plated the fried fish, placing it on the table beside Hermione.

“And now for the oh-so-strange _pièce de résistance_ ,” Ron announced dramatically, producing a bottle of chocolate sauce and dousing the fish in it.

Hermione sighed gratefully.

“Thanks, Ron,” Hermione said genuinely, “I really didn’t feel up to cooking in the middle of the night.”

“No prob, ‘Mione,” Ron shrugged, “Gotta keep you in good graces with your lady.”

Hermione snorted.

“What makes you think she isn’t trying to stay in my good graces?” Hermione said defensively.

“Right, right,” Ron surrendered, putting his hands up, “I was only playing. You have to admit, though, she is a truly stunning bird. Hey, between us lads… Since she’s your girlfriend now… Does that mean you two are…?”

“One, I’m _not_ a lad,” Hermione replied waspishly, “ _Two,_ I’m not going to share details of my intimate life with _you,_ ” Hermione poked Ron in the chest with a pointed finger to emphasize her point, “And _three,_ I won’t have you talking about her like an object anymore, okay?”

“Sheesh, okay, ‘Mione,” Ron groaned, “You always take things so seriously.”

“Of course I take Fleur and the baby seriously,” Hermione retorted with a huff, “Anyway, thanks for cooking this up. I’ll see you tomorrow at a more reasonable hour.”

“Right,” Ron grumbled, “Night, ‘Mione.”

Hermione rolled her eyes as she headed back to her room. Ron was a good friend but Merlin he could be the worst sometimes. At times she wondered why he preferred to hang out with her and Harry instead of some of the more knuckle-headed Gryffindor boys like Dean and Seamus.

All thoughts of Ron evaporated as Hermione re-entered her room, carefully locking the door behind her. She felt her spirits soar as she was greeted with the sight of the beautiful, naked pregnant Veela waiting in her bed.

“Magnifique!” Fleur exclaimed delightedly.

“M’lady,” Hermione jokingly bowed and offered the plate of food to Fleur.

Fleur all but snatched it from her hands, beginning to devour it before Hermione had even clambered back in to her side of the bed.

Hermione watched in barely contained astonishment. The cravings and appetite of a pregnant Veela never ceased to surprise her.

“Mmmn, delicious!” Fleur hummed with pleasure, finishing off the last of the dish.

“Crazy,” Hermione replied, taking the plate from Fleur and putting it on her bedside table.

“Hush, or I will not let you clean,” Fleur said slowly.

“Clean?! That’s hardly…” The words died on Hermione’s lips as she realized Fleur was gesturing at her breasts, where drops of the chocolate sauce had fallen.

Suddenly it didn’t matter that the chocolate sauce had been on a fish mere seconds ago.

Hermione realized she had been staring and raised her gaze up from Fleur’s enticing chest to meet the part-Veela’s eyes. They were wild, deep blue and flecked with silver again. Fleur smiled widely and nodded.

Hermione didn’t need a second invitation, leaning in and immediately setting to licking the chocolate sauce off Fleur’s breasts. Fleur sighed and threw her head back, making Hermione’s stomach flip. Hermione ran a tongue slowly over Fleur’s nipple. As her tongue licked the chocolate sauce clean off it, Fleur’s nipple hardened beneath it. Fleur gasped.

Emboldened, Hermione reached down, pushing Fleur’s thighs apart and drawing her hand up to their apex. Fleur was soaking.

Hermione continued her diligent work of cleaning the chocolate sauce from Fleur’s breasts with savoured licks. But while her tongue worked at the blonde’s chest, her careful fingers set to work further South. She swiped them slowly through Fleur’s folds at first, merely appreciating how wet the Frenchwoman had become at her touch. It was a headrush thinking that she had caused such a strong physical reaction with the blonde.

Lazily, Hermione swirled her fingers, barely skittering past Fleur’s clit. So slowly and casually it was as if it were inadvertent. But Hermione was anything but careless, relishing the moan that escaped Fleur’s lips.

Hermione latched on to Fleur’s other nipple, nipping at it hard before licking it better. Fleur hissed with pleasure and arched her back. Hermione felt her own heat stoked within. It was beyond a turn on to make the carefully held-together Veela come undone.

Hermione’s fingers continued their slow rhythm before they circled Fleur’s clit deliberately. Hermione couldn’t help but smirk as Fleur’s hips jerked suddenly at the movement. Hermione was always a quick study, and she was rapidly learning how to play Fleur’s body like the sweet instrument it was. She circled again before halting her movements.

Fleur let out a growl and bucked her hips in frustration, all but humping Hermione’s hand in desperation for the sweet caresses to continue.

Hermione, all done with the chocolate sauce, kissed her way up Fleur’s chest and up the column of her neck.

“Fleur,” Hermione murmured in the blonde’s ear. Her voice was rough with desire.

“Oui?” Fleur gasped.

Hermione knew what she was about to do signaled a total shift in their dynamic. But the idea of it was turning her on too much. Besides, Cassandra had told her to be bold—not to fall victim to being the prey of a Veela.

“I want you to beg for it,” Hermione teased. She wasn’t usually such a sexual person, but ran her tongue gently over the lobe of Fleur’s ear.

Fleur exhaled shakily, her body beginning to tremble.

“N-non…” Fleur muttered in a strained voice, “I do not b-beg…”

Hermione looked at her pretty features, flushed and frustrated. Her eyes were shut but her long dark eyelashes were fluttering. She was irritated, caught on the edge of pleasure and desire.

Hermione moved a finger slowly, brushing Fleur’s clit ever so softly before moving away again. Fleur groaned and arched her back again.

Hermione couldn’t take her eyes off her. It was a sight to see, a beautiful woman suspended in such sweet torture.

She drew her lips close to the shell of Fleur’s ear again, teasingly.

“Beg me for it,” Hermione repeated huskily.

Fleur let out a long, frustrated groan, thrashing her head back.

“Argh! _Please_ Hermione!” Fleur growled.

Hermione, ever the dutiful partner, obliged. She moved her fingers to work gently but quickly at Fleur’s clit.

Fleur let out a loud stream of French words that Hermione was sure were of a salty nature. One of her hands clasped the sheets, fisting them in her hand. Her other arm was pulled tightly around Hermione. Her hand was clinging on to Hermione for dear life, nails digging into the skin of Hermione’s shoulder blade.

Hermione didn’t care at all about it. Fleur could draw blood for all she cared. It was exquisite pleasuring the woman she was so smitten with.

“Unh, Hermione!” Fleur cried out.

Hermione swooned. She loved hearing Fleur utter her name so passionately. Fleur’s entire body was tensing up. Hermione could tell she was getting close to the edge.

She kissed along Fleur’s jawline before bringing her lips to Fleur’s ear once again.

“ _Mon amour,_ ” Hermione purred. It was one of the few French phrases she knew: _my love._

It seemed to push Fleur that last bit needed, as she came completely and entirely undone in Hermione’s arms, calling out her name.

Her nails raked down Hermione’s shoulder blade as her entire body juddered, riding out the sweet orgasm. 

Hermione moved to cuddle Fleur’s body as it finally went limp.

“Merde,” Fleur panted, her eyes finally flickering open. Her chest was heaving.

“I’ve been told I’m a quick learner,” Hermione said, with just a hint of smugness.

She let her hands wander a little. The throbbing need between her own legs was even more urgent after seeing Fleur finish saying her name.

“Well… That much seems to be true,” Fleur uttered in disbelief, running a hand through her tousled hair.

“I have to spoil my girlfriend,” Hermione smiled, nuzzling into Fleur’s neck, “Even if she does wake me up for weird snacks.”

“Mmn, you did spoil me,” Fleur purred, “But perhaps dessert is in order?”

“Dessert?” Hermione frowned, “What do you feel like eating now?”

Her frown quickly faded as one of Fleur’s slender hands reached forward and cupped between her legs.

“You,” Fleur replied seductively.

Hermione shivered. Something about the way Fleur was looking at her hungrily was driving her crazy.

Hermione all but tore off her boxers and old tee. Her pulse was racing wildly.

Fleur grinned broadly, lying back.

Hermione felt her jaw slacken as Fleur motioned for her to clamber onto her face. She couldn’t believe her luck.

Hermione carefully moved, planting a knee on either side of Fleur’s head. Her arousal spiked impossibly higher as Fleur looked up at her, eyes dark with desire. Hermione lowered herself slowly, afraid of hurting the blonde.

But Fleur reached up, hooking her arms around Hermione’s thighs and pulling her down to her mouth.

Hermione groaned as her center was pressed against Fleur’s lips.

She had never sat on someone’s face before. She didn’t have time to consider the situation though, as Fleur’s talented tongue soon set to work.

Hermione moaned, her eyes rolling back in her head.

“Jesus, Fleur,” Hermione uttered. She grabbed hold of the headboard and held on for dear life.

Fleur’s tongue slid expertly over sensitive spots, causing Hermione to tremble and moan. All reservations went out the window as she began to grind herself against Fleur’s mouth in earnest.

Hermione was in a state of bliss, riding the blonde’s face. Instinct had taken over. It was as if Fleur and her were _made_ to pleasure each other.

Hermione glanced down. Fleur was a sight to behold between the Golden Girl’s thighs. Her deep blue eyes were the wildest Hermione had seen yet, even more silvery than usual. The feeling that coursed through Hermione when their eyes locked was unlike anything Hermione had ever experienced before.

A rush like no other.

Hermione felt like she had been sparked alight.

Hermione let out a low moan, losing her mind as she came undone.

She was Fleur’s mate.

Hermione came hard, her senses completely overloaded with bliss and pleasure.

“Merlin… Sorry,” Hermione sighed, sliding off Fleur and shuffling down the bed.

She suddenly felt very self conscious for riding Fleur’s face as enthusiastically as Harry on his Firebolt. She crossed her arms, covering some of her scars. Damned if she didn’t feel amazing despite it all. It was as if each time she slept with Fleur it felt better than the last.

Fleur sat up, wiping her mouth daintily.

“Do not be sorry,” Fleur replied, “It was fun, non? I certainly enjoyed myself.”

“You did?” Hermione all but sighed with relief.

Fleur chuckled lightly, pulling Hermione’s crossed arms down.

“Oui, now stop being so self-conscious with me,” Fleur said gently, “I told you I love your scars. I told you I wanted you for dessert. Don’t doubt me when I say I want something.”

“Thank goodness,” Hermione relaxed her shoulders, shuffling close to Fleur and wrapping her arms around the blonde.

Being self-conscious was almost a reflex for Hermione. But she was finding it easier and easier to get over it when it came to Fleur.

“Besides, I like it when you take charge,” Fleur said seductively, kissing at the column of Hermione’s neck.

Hermione sighed. If Fleur wasn’t careful, the brunette would need another romp before going back to sleep.

“Mm, unsurprising given the Veela like bold lovers as their mates, right?” Hermione rattled off carelessly. Reciting facts that she had picked up was second nature to her. But she realized it was a mistake as Fleur stiffened a little and ceased her gentle kisses.

“Do we have to talk about that?” Fleur said in an almost sulky tone. She rolled over in bed, the twisted sheets tangling about her body. Hermione shuffled in behind her, spooning her.

“We can’t avoid talking about your heritage all the time, Fleur,” Hermione said softly, “It is a part of you.”

Fleur made a small grumbling noise, turning off the lights.

Hermione didn’t press the issue, instead letting herself cuddle Fleur and lean into her post-sex relaxation.

It didn’t take long before both women were soon fast asleep.

* * *

Hermione awoke with a jolt.

Exam day.

Her final course was solidified into one grueling exam. She had been studying so intensely for this moment.

Thankfully, despite spending a considerable amount of the previous night slinking around the house for Fleur’s food and then making love with the blonde, Hermione felt incredibly well rested.

_‘This situation really has its perks,’_ Hermione mused to herself.

“Oh, bien, you are awake,” Fleur commented from across the room. She was almost ready for work, brushing her hair in the mirror, “I was just about to wake you if you did not get up soon.”

“Yeah, well, someone kept me up last night,” Hermione commented, stretching. She noticed a small amount of dried blood on the white sheets she had been sleeping on. She blushed as she remembered Fleur’s desperate clawing at her shoulder blade.

Hermione got up, trying not to feel self conscious of her nudity in front of Fleur.

Fleur’s eyes quickly roamed her body with appreciation before moving back to the mirror as she continued fixing her hair.

Hermione stepped beside her, twisting her shoulder to try and see how bad the scratches were. Nothing.

“The scratches you left on my shoulder entirely healed overnight,” Hermione commented.

To her surprise, Fleur blushed a deep red.

“Er, sorry about that,” Fleur muttered.

Hermione couldn’t believe it. Fleur flustered.

“Well, I suppose this mates thing has its benefits,” Hermione smiled, sweeping away across the room. She felt her mood further boost as she felt eyes on her.

Hermione got changed quickly. She kept it simple; pulling on cotton underwear followed by a white tee and black jeans. She pulled on some socks and her Converse before heading back to the mirror to fix her hair.

Fleur had finally finished getting ready and looked poised to head out the door. But she paused, biting her lip.

“Good luck for today,” Fleur said.

“Thanks,” Hermione replied with a smile.

The brunette was thrown off-guard as Fleur closed the gap between them and pulled her into a kiss. Hermione hummed with enjoyment as Fleur deepened the kiss. The blonde’s hands were roaming her body, running up her side one minute, then down her back the next. Fleur’s actions had a hunger about them again. A hunger that drew Hermione in.

Hermione’s hands tangled into Fleur’s silky soft hair. She was losing herself in the kiss, forgetting entirely about her impending exam and job interview for the moment. Fleur’s hands slipped under the waistband of her jeans, under her underwear, cupping Hermione’s ass.

Hermione was surprised, but liked it.

Fleur withdrew her wandering hands and broke the kiss, looking a little guilty.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to get so carried away,” Fleur apologized, “I just… I’ll be thinking about you today.”

“Thanks,” Hermione grinned, “That means a lot.”

* * *

Hermione wasn’t sure if it was the bond growing between her and Fleur, but she was feeling the most confident and energized she ever had in an exam.

Her hand practically flew over the parchment, confidently drafting essays and answers without hesitation.

Usually she felt quite frazzled in exams. Her curly hair would usually be frizzed and messy by the end of an exam and she would be pale and clammy. But today she felt calm and collected.

For the first time in her entire life, Hermione left an exam early.

Hermione caught a Floo from the university campus to the Ministry, ducking into a bathroom to change into interview appropriate attire. She went with the same outfit she had worn for Fleur’s birthday dinner, but wore a charcoal blazer over the top.

Checking her curls were still tamed in the mirror, Hermione smiled and breezed out the door.

It felt like she had drunk some Felix Felicis.

As Hermione stepped into an elevator, a flurry of animated paper planes followed her in. Hermione recognized them as the memos that flew around the Ministry, delivering notes to staff. One of the paper planes seemed to take a liking to Hermione, flapping over and landing on her shoulder.

“Not now, little guy,” Hermione murmured, brushing the paper plane off her shoulder.

It flapped, affronted, and landed on her shoulder again.

Suspicious, Hermione snatched it in her hand. She noticed her name on the edge of one of its wings.

“Ohhh,” Hermione conceded, allowing the memo to flatten itself out to be read.

_‘Dear Hermione,_

_I hope your exam went well. I have been thinking of you all day._

_Bill invited us both to enjoy dinner with him after work. Let me know if you are happy to join. I understand if you don’t feel like giving him a chance just yet._

_Good luck for your job interview! They would be crazy to turn you down._

_Yours,_

_Fleur._

_P.S. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about last night. Perhaps we can have a repeat when we get home tonight?”_

Hermione was glad there were only memos in the elevator with her as her face heated up with a blush at the last line. She pulled out a ballpoint pen from her pocket, scrawling her assent to both suggestions.

The brunette exhaled, grinning widely.

_Had_ Harry or Ron slipped her some Felix Felicis? Things seemed to be going almost too well for Hermione.

The elevator let out and Hermione got out at a small office area. There was a reception with a pretty brunette behind the desk.

“Can I help you… _Oh, my!_ You’re Hermione Granger!” the receptionist gushed.

“Er, yes I am,” Hermione said, rubbing the back of her neck, “I’m here to interview for the Policy role at the Department of Magical Creatures.”

“The Golden Girl of the Golden Trio,” the receptionist replied, ignoring the last part of Hermione’s sentence. She batted her eyelashes and leaned forward in her seat, “Are you up to anything tonight?”

“Er,” Hermione was thrown. Was she giving off vibes now? She swore before the entire baby debacle had started, she’d never attracted attention from women this much. “Sorry, but I’m going to dinner with my girlfriend and her best friend.”

“Oh, a girlfriend!” the receptionist pouted, “Just my luck! Who is the lucky lady?”

“Um, Fleur Delacour,” Hermione said, growing increasingly uncomfortable, “Anyway, I have an interview to attend.”

“Oh, of course,” the receptionist groaned, “No ordinary woman could compete with the likes of Fleur bloody Delacour!”

“Er, the interview?” Hermione prompted, drumming her hands on the desk.

The receptionist finally seemed to snap out of her distracted state, quickly scrawling a memo.

“Right, I’ll let them know you’ve arrived,” the receptionist said matter-of-factly, charming the memo to fly off.

Hermione straightened her shirt, inwardly steeling herself to ace the interview.

* * *

Hermione left the interview surprisingly late. The panel of interviewers had been fascinated by her, and not just for her wartime fame. They had enjoyed several hours of in depth discussion on the pros and cons of different policy strategies in the world of Magical Creatures.

Hermione wasn’t just feeling positive about the outcome of the interview, she was feeling positive about the future of the Magical Creature department she would be joining.

When she entered the reception area again, she was surprised to find Fleur sitting in the waiting area, exchanging glares with the receptionist.

“Oh, Fleur! What are you doing here?” Hermione exclaimed, as the heavily pregnant Veela rose to greet her. Fleur kissed her softly on the lips before drawing away to shoot daggers at the receptionist again.

“You were taking so long so I decided to come and wait for you,” Fleur replied, “The receptionist here was très unhelpful. She seemed more concerned with yearning after something that is not _hers._ ”

Fleur snaked an arm around Hermione’s waist possessively and Hermione had to suppress a smile. It was quite cute seeing Fleur possessive over her.

Hermione wasn’t going to prod the hormonal Veela about it though, opting to change the subject for the safety of the receptionist.

“Well, we are probably due at dinner with Bill, right?” Hermione prompted.

The change of subject had the desired effect, as Fleur’s expression softened considerably.

“Oui!” Fleur nodded, pleased.

Hermione took her hand and led them out of the offices.

Fleur’s mood seemed to lift further as they got out of the Ministry and walked through the streets. It lifted enough that Hermione felt brave enough to venture into talking about what had just happened.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you jealous before,” Hermione observed. Fleur snorted.

“Of course you have,” Fleur replied darkly, “Remember when you went on that date with that girl with the French name?”

Hermione’s stomach dropped for a second as she remembered her attempts at giving things a go with Amelie. It was strange, because back then she was not dating Fleur, but it almost felt like cheating.

“Er, right,” Hermione said awkwardly, “I didn’t quite appreciate that you were jealous of her.”

“Merde, was I ever,” Fleur muttered darkly, “I wasn’t about to say that to you, though! I think I would have lost it if anything had ever happened with you and that girl.”

Hermione swallowed nervously. She debated inwardly telling Fleur right now that she had actually slept with Amelie, but decided against it. Fleur was moody enough after the receptionist and it was a bad idea to piss off the Veela so early in their evening’s plans. She could only imagine how horrid a dinner with Bill Weasley would be with Fleur in a mood on top of it.

“So, where are we going for dinner?” Hermione asked abruptly.

“Oh, right here!” Fleur looked up, her eyes lighting up as she recognized where they were.

It was a small but fashionable looking eatery, almost hidden amongst the cluster of busy bars, cafes and restaurants. Hermione followed Fleur inside, feeling a little self-conscious. She wasn’t used to going to such trendy places. As soon as she entered, everyone seemed to stare at her straight away.

“It is just because you are a member of the Golden Trio,” Fleur murmured under her breath, seeming to read Hermione’s stiffened posture. Hermione nodded, grateful to Fleur for easing her nerves. Everyone in the eatery seemed so polished and fashionable. Hermione just felt out of place.

“Fleur, darling!” Bill called out, coming over to pull Fleur into a hug.

Bill had his hair tied up in a bun today, his fang earring back in appearance. He was wearing a silvery shirt that appeared to be enchanted. He had paired it with some ripped black jeans and expensive looking black leather boots.

“Bill, I missed you and our evening catch ups,” Fleur smiled, kissing the redhead on each cheek.

“Hermione,” Bill greeted coolly, as he turned to acknowledge the brunette.

Hermione tried not to roll here eyes. Bill could at least try to hide his disdain for her.

“Bill,” Hermione greeted stiffly.

“Decided just to throw on any old rags, I see,” Bill sniffed.

Fleur glared at him.

“Bill, play nice,” Fleur chided, “I think she looks impeccable. She’s actually just come from a job interview.”

“I’m sure that went well,” Bill replied, although his eyes seemed to disagree with his statement.

The three of them sat down at a table and Bill immediately waved down a waiter to order a wine. Fleur ordered a sparkling water. Hermione ordered a beer, earning a withering look from Bill.

Hermione could feel her temper flaring as the drinks materialized on the table. Bill could at least give her a chance. She was best friends with his brother and dating his best friend after all.

“I was waiting there for ages!” Fleur exclaimed, “They must have really liked her to talk to her for that long.”

“Or it went that poorly,” Bill muttered under his breath, sipping at his wine.

“Oh, it only went poorly for me,” Fleur groaned, “The receptionist was entirely besotted with Hermione. I think if Hermione’s interview had gone any longer she would have found a way to push me down some stairs.”

“Yes, well, even Hermione has her suitors I suppose,” Bill drawled, drumming his fingers on the table, “What was the name of that raggedy haired girl Ron kept talking about you screwing? Amy? Andrea? Sounded like a _real catch_ , Hermione.”

Bill’s voice was dripping with sarcasm but Hermione wasn’t even paying attention, her eyes fixed intently on Fleur.

A thunderous look had crossed her face before the wall of ice descended. Hermione felt her stomach twist uncomfortably.

“Hermione… You didn’t tell me you slept with her,” Fleur said, her voice in forced evenness.

Hermione felt herself break out into a sweat. She was vaguely aware of Bill’s face lighting up as he watched the two women interact.

“I… We weren’t together then,” Hermione said weakly.

Fleur’s eyes flashed dangerously.

“We were _just_ talking about her and I _just_ told you about how I would feel if anything happened!” Fleur said acidly, “You didn’t say a thing! You were hiding it from me!”

“I—Not really—Maybe _technically—_ “ Hermione stammered, “I would’ve told you eventually! It just wasn’t good timing.”

Bill scoffed.

Fleur grabbed her sparkling water and threw it in Hermione’s face.

“Save it, Hermione!” Fleur hissed, getting to her feet and storming out of the eatery.

Hermione, furious, rounded on Bill.

“What did you have to go and drag that up for?” Hermione fumed.

Bill smirked and leaned back in his chair, swirling his wine.

“She’s too good for you,” Bill shrugged simply.

“I look after her, I look after the baby, I goddamn _love_ her!” Hermione exclaimed, “What isn’t good enough about that? I would do anything for her and the baby! You need to drop the judgment with me because I’m going to be in Fleur’s life for a long time.”

“She didn’t seem too happy just now,” Bill said, sipping at his glass, “Maybe she doesn’t like you anymore?”

“It’s just the bloody pregnancy hormones!” Hermione snapped, “She’ll calm down! Stop trying to make things worse.”

“I’m just trying to look out for my best friend,” Bill said leaning in and glaring at Hermione.

“Yeah? Well, it doesn’t seem like it from where I’m sitting!” Hermione shot back. She grabbed a napkin, dabbing the water from her face and hair as best as she could. She tossed it back on the table with a galleon and left without looking at Bill again.

She was sick of him judging her. She was sick of him trying to get in Fleur’s head.

Hermione just hoped she could calm Fleur down enough to see reason.


	21. Chapter 21

Hermione stood on the steps of Gringotts, despondent.

It had been some time and Fleur had successfully dodged every attempt for Hermione to explain herself about the Amelie situation. Of course, she remained furious, as evidenced by the fact Hermione had to pick her clothes out of the rose bushes underneath their window that morning.

Pregnancy hormones and a part-Veela definitely were not something to trifle with.

Hermione could throttle Bill.

The worst thing was that now her final exams were over and she was waiting to hear back about her job, there was absolutely nothing to distract her from the frustration of things being terrible with Fleur.

Hermione kicked at the marble steps, irritated.

She was waiting for Fleur to finish work so they could go to another pregnancy check up with Dr Fantail. Fleur hadn’t invited her, of course, still livid with the brunette. But Hermione was not about to miss a check up to make sure Fleur and the baby were okay. 

“Trouble in paradise?” the familiar voice of Ginny rang out.

Hermione glanced up and saw the athletic redhead bounding over to her.

“Hey, Gin,” Hermione greeted glumly.

She hadn’t caught up with Ginny for a while, but wasn’t thrilled about seeing her while she was awaiting the latest tense showdown with Angry Fleur.

“Ron told me that Fleur has been a bit temperamental with you lately,” Ginny said, cocking her head to one side sympathetically.

“’Temperamental’ is an understatement,” Hermione replied darkly, “Try ‘extremely hormonal and out for blood.’ I can’t wait ‘til this pregnancy is over.”

“Oh, well I suppose that’s what you get for shacking up with a pregnant Veela,” Ginny shrugged, “Speaking of Veela… I haven’t really caught up with you since the Sophie thing.”

“Oh, _yeah,_ ” Hermione replied in interest, finally distracted from her own relationship woes, “Fleur said she had gone back to France so I assumed nothing more had happened.”

Hermione had been meaning to talk to Ginny about it all. She’d worried that Ginny wouldn’t be dealing with the sudden epiphany.

“Well… Nothing more happened with her…” Ginny said shyly, rubbing the back of her neck, “But I have started seeing a woman… One we both know…”

“Luna?!” Hermione asked excitedly. She had long suspected there was some kind of sexual tension between the two friends.

“No!” Ginny yelped, “Why does everyone always guess Luna?! Anyway, promise me you won’t be upset?”

“Honestly, unless it was Fleur, it won’t make me upset,” Hermione said genuinely.

“Oh, well, good,” Ginny said nervously, “Because I asked her to come and meet me here.”

“Right, well, Fleur’s coming this way, and we have to go to a Healer’s appointment,” Hermione replied, nodding up the steps at the blonde just exiting the bank as she spoke.

“It’s _Amelie_ ,” Ginny said breathlessly, “We ran into each other, got to talking and just hit it off!”

“And she’s coming here?!” Hermione panicked, stressing as Fleur drew closer to them.

“Yeah, are you mad that I’m dating her?” Ginny asked, frowning, “I thought that you two decided you were better off as friends?”

“We are,” Hermione tried to explain rapidly, “It’s just—Hello, Fleur!”

Hermione wrenched a smile onto her face as Fleur reached them. Fleur frowned icily at Hermione.

“You really think I want you to come with me to the appointment?” Fleur asked coldly. 

Ginny frowned, before looking over Hermione’s shoulder and lighting up.

_‘Oh, Merlin, no…’_ Hermione inwardly begged. She turned around in time to see Amelie approaching them. She tried to mouth to the raven-haired girl to stay away, but it was too late.

Amelie bounded forward, hugging Hermione tightly.

“Hey, Golden Girl!” Amelie greeted fondly, “Guessing Ginny told you the news?”

“Unbelievable!” Fleur snapped.

Hermione all but shoved Amelie off herself, turning to Fleur with desperation.

“Fleur! Nothing is going on with me and Amelie!” Hermione insisted.

“Sure! And that is why she is running up to embrace you in the streets?!” Fleur hissed, “Just admit it! You would rather be with her than a giant pregnant blimp like me!”

“Uh oh,” Ginny muttered under her breath, realizing the situation she had unwittingly dropped Hermione into.

“Hermione and I are just friends,” Amelie tried to explain.

“Friends that slept together,” Fleur snapped, turning to glide away. Hermione reached out, frantic to top the blonde from brushing her off again. She grabbed Fleur by the arm, causing the angry Veela to turn around and fix her with a furious glare.

The silver was even more prominent in her eyes than ever, sending a shiver down Hermione’s spine. She tried to rally her brain to remember the carefully crafted explanation she had practiced.

“Fleur… It was just one time…” Hermione began, her brain turning to slush at the anger and intensity in Fleur’s eyes.

_‘Come on, Granger,’_ Hermione urged herself, _‘Just say something to make it better… Anything is better than saying nothing!’_

“I was already worked up after you came onto me that night! And it wasn’t like the sex was even that good!” Hermione blurted.

Fleur snapped, wrenching her arm out of Hermione’s grasp. Her eyes turned even more silvery and she swore in French, slapping Hermione across the face.

Shocked, Hermione drew a hand up to her face.

Just as Hermione thought the situation couldn’t get worse, she noticed Bill quickly approaching them, a broad smile on his face.

“Fleur, is Hermione bothering you?” Bill asked graciously, stepping up to put an arm around the aggravated pregnant Veela.

“Yes,” Fleur seethed.

“Look, I’ll walk you to your appointment,” Bill offered, “Best not to get worked up.”

“But—“ Hermione was cut off by a withering look from Fleur. Fleur looped her arm through Bill’s and glided off. 

Hermione’s shoulders slumped in defeat as Bill and Fleur swept off, looking very much like a perfect couple.

_‘Why can’t I keep her happy like that?’_ Hermione thought sadly.

She let her gaze finally leave Fleur, returning to Ginny and Amelie. The latter had her hands firmly planted on her hips and did not look impressed.

“Wasn’t even that good?” Amelie echoed, raising an eyebrow, “You didn’t have to be a jerk.”

“I’m so sorry,” Hermione apologized, looking stricken, “Fleur has been in this intense jealous rage ever since Bill told her that we slept together. Whenever I try to explain myself or calm her down, I just seem to panic and make it worse!”

Amelie’s expression softened and she dropped her arms.

“Oh, Golden Girl,” Amelie sighed sympathetically, “You should have given us a heads-up.”

Hermione made a frustrated growl, throwing her hands up in dismay.

“I was hardly going to _owl_ you that my girlfriend was in a jealous rage over finding out we had slept together!” Hermione huffed, “Honestly, this wouldn’t be so bad if Bill hadn’t just thrown me in it. I was going to tell her eventually… When it was the right time.”

“You mean when she wasn’t a hormonal time-bomb?” Ginny smirked.

“Well… Yes,” Hermione admitted, “It has been truly dreadful. She’s been mad at me ever since she found out. It’s been like sharing a bed with a block of ice. I swear if we didn’t need to be near at night for the whole Veela pregnancy, I would be sleeping on the couch by now.”

“Oh man, Hermione,” Amelie sympathized, shaking her head, “Any idea how to fix things?”

“I just need enough time and space to talk to her properly,” Hermione sighed, “I just keep messing it up, and never have the time to explain. Then it seems like whenever she goes to work with Bill, she just comes back even angrier. I swear if he wasn’t gay I would suspect he had a thing for her.”

Ginny laughed.

Hermione frowned.

“You need to stop letting him get under your skin,” Ginny replied, “I know my brothers are gifted at winding people up, but you just have to resist the urge to throttle them.” 

Hermione exhaled, frustrated.

“I just think he is far too possessive of Fleur,” Hermione replied, “He’s been absolutely awful, Gin.” 

Ginny looked thoughtful, scratching her chin.

“Well, they were pretty inseparable before all this…” Ginny mused, “And I suppose he has been acting a bit crazy ever since you slept with Fleur and got her pregnant. He’s bitchy, but he’s not _usually_ quite as bad as he has been with you.”

“Well, whatever his reasons are doesn’t matter,” Hermione growled, “I need him to back off and stop being so possessive of _my_ girlfriend.”

“Wow, possessive Hermione is kind of hot,” Amelie commented, her mouth falling open. Ginny swatted her.

“Babe! Unless you want to be the next woman in the doghouse with her girlfriend, I suggest you stop drooling over my friend,” Ginny said warningly.

Amelie looked (wisely) scared of the Weasley temper and flashed an apologetic smile at the redhead.

“Okay, well, I’ll have to catch up with you guys soon,” Hermione interrupted, “I have an appointment to make.”

She took off in the direction that Fleur and Bill had left in, more determined than ever to make things right.

* * *

Hermione burst into the Healer’s office, irritated as she found Bill Weasley sitting in the waiting room reading a magazine. He was leaning back, looking relaxed and sure of himself. It did nothing to quell the temper rising within Hermione.

She walked over and grabbed the magazine, yanking it out of his hands and tossing it on the floor.

“Oh, if it isn’t the Golden Girl?” Bill replied with a cocky grin, “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Hermione retorted.

“I’m the closest to her,” Bill sniffed, “I’m supporting her because clearly her girlfriend isn’t up to the task.”

“What is your problem with me?!” Hermione snapped, “Are you jealous?”

“Jealous? Why would I be jealous of a frizzy-haired know-it-all?” Bill replied snidely.

“I think you’re jealous because Fleur isn’t giving you as much attention anymore,” Hermione replied harshly, “I think you’re trying anything to keep her attention and keep her upset enough at everyone else that you’re the only one she can turn to.”

“Interesting theory,” Bill replied, acting as if he wasn’t bothered in the slightest.

Hermione wished she could just take him by his strong shoulders and shake him until he could see sense.

“I want you gone when I come out,” Hermione replied instead, undeterred.

Bill rolled his eyes as Hermione spun on her heel, walking out of the waiting room and down to Dr Fantail’s door. She didn’t even knock, bursting in. She wasn’t going to give Fleur a chance to keep her at bay.

“Blimey!” Fantail jumped, before registering who it was and relaxing, “Oh, it’s just you Hermione. I was wondering whether you were coming.”

“She wasn’t supposed to come,” Fleur replied icily, sitting patiently by Fantail.

Fleur was so small in frame that anyone would assume she was vulnerable. She was shorter than Hermione without her heels and her face looked too pretty to be dangerous. But Hermione knew better that Fleur was both dangerously powerful and scarily temperamental. But Hermione was determined not to be scared off.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Hermione said firmly, locking eyes with Fleur, “Is everything okay?”

“Fleur seems a little distressed is all,” Fantail replied, “She needs to keep her stress down.”

_‘More like needs Bill to stop being a jealous jerk. Him trying to keep me away from Fleur is just causing her undue stress.’_ Hermione thought to herself darkly.

“I’ll do my best to help,” Hermione replied to Fantail, frowning as Fleur rolled her eyes.

The appointment soon wrapped up, Hermione at least appeased that the baby was in good health. Fleur and her stress levels were another matter all together. First Bill’s insecurities about creature status, and now his bloody jealousy. He needed to stop projecting on Fleur.

Hermione was annoyed when they exited to the waiting room and Bill was still there, smoothing his hair down before waving at Fleur.

“I thought I told you to be gone when we got out,” Hermione growled.

“Hey, I didn’t force you to shag some other girl,” Bill retorted, grinning as he saw how incensed Fleur immediately became at the mention of Amelie.

Hermione stepped forward, shoving Bill.

“Cut it _out!_ ” Hermione barked, “Can’t you see how much you’re stressing out Fleur?! Ruin my relationship with her, fine—but don’t you _dare_ jeopardize the health of her or the baby.”

“Hermione,” Fleur cut in.

Hermione could tell the people in the waiting room were beginning to stare at the spectacle unfolding, but she was struggling to keep her temper in check.

“Oh, so bloody noble!” Bill retorted, “You’re just like all Ron’s friends—obsessed with being the savior!”

“Bill!” Fleur chided, trying to step between the two of them.

“Just admit it, Bill,” Hermione replied savagely, “You’re just jealous because you can’t have her to yourself anymore!”

“Shut up!” Bill snapped, blushing. He lunged forward at Hermione, drawing his wand.

Fleur, in a blinding blur of silver, pushed Bill out of the way with seemingly superhuman strength. Hermione gasped as she saw that Fleur had talons in place of her usual manicured nails. Her eyes were entirely silver and her hair was even more silvery than usual. Her high cheekbones were even more angular than usual, giving her a decidedly avian look.

“Don’t lay a hand on my mate,” Fleur hissed in a harsh and scratchy voice.

Bill’s eyes were wide, terrified by the sudden and unexpected partial transformation of his best friend.

“I-I’m sorry,” Bill gulped.

“Fleur, I’m fine,” Hermione soothed, stepping forward and placing a placating hand on Fleur’s shoulder.

Fleur seemed to relax almost immediately, her talons receding and her hair slowly regaining its white-blonde colouring. Hermione was relieved her partial transformation had faded so quickly.

Fleur blinked and stepped away, unsteady on her feet. Hermione put her arms around her, holding her up.

“Take it easy, Fleur,” Hermione murmured, before turning to Bill, “You need to leave.”

In all the commotion, people in the waiting room had begun to gape and mutter amongst themselves. The kindly woman behind the desk had evidently gone to fetch a Healer, judging by her swift return accompanied by Dr Fantail.

“What on Earth is going on?” Fantail asked.

“Sh-she _transformed_ ,” a woman in the waiting room shrieked, “Should I go and fetch Magical Creature Control?”

“Not necessary,” Fantail replied crisply, “Fleur, will you come back into my office for a moment?”

Fleur, looking exhausted, nodded. Hermione, with her arms carefully around her, helped her back into Fantail’s room.

The anxious little Healer flitted about, casting various diagnostic spells.

“I wish you had told me that you underwent partial Veela transformations,” Fantail muttered, wringing his hands.

“I… Have never transformed before…” Fleur murmured, still entirely exhausted.

“It takes a toll on you physically,” Fantail replied, gesturing at Fleur, “As we can already see. I want you to limit physical activity for the rest of the pregnancy and avoid any stressors that could trigger another transformation.”

“But I’m a curse breaker,” Fleur protested weakly.

“Who is already looking to move to desk work,” Hermione added, “We will follow your orders.”

“Hermione…” Fleur whined tiredly.

“Fleur,” Hermione drew close to the blonde as Fantail finished up his notes, “I know you’ve been angry at me lately, but I need you to let me look after you.”

Fleur’s deep blue eyes met Hermione’s begrudgingly. She frowned.

“Fine,” Fleur sighed, looking down. Hermione felt her heart wrench at how utterly defeated and drained the usually-fiery woman seemed. 

Fantail updated his notes and gave Fleur one last once-over before approving that she could leave.

Hermione, to Fleur’s dismay, swept the part Veela into her arms to carry out.

“Non, non! I am too heavy!” Fleur protested.

“Nonsense,” Hermione replied, carrying her pretty quarry out the door. She was still feeling the extra strength in her body and magic since sleeping next to Fleur at night after all. She ignored the stares of the gossiping people in the waiting room. Acknowledging them would only bring distress to the already overwhelmed and exhausted blonde in her arms.

Hermione carried Fleur down to the street, relieved to see that finally Bill had actually listened to her and disappeared. She held Fleur tightly, alarmed to feel warm salty tears against her neck.

Fleur rarely lost her composure. It was especially rare to see her showing weakness instead of anger.

“Are… Are you okay, Fleur?” Hermione asked gently.

“Did you see the way they were looking at me?” Fleur sniffled, “That woman even asked to call Magical Creature Control on me like I was an _animal_.”

“People always act over the top when they come across things they have never seen before,” Hermione soothed, “Forget about them.”

To Hermione’s relief, a carriage drawn by thestrals was trotting past and she managed to flag it down. She got Fleur safely inside and instructed the driver to take them to Grimmauld Place before climbing into the carriage with Fleur.

The blonde still seemed terribly exhausted, her head drooping and resting on Hermione’s shoulder helplessly.

Hermione decided she would call Fleur’s family as soon as she got the blonde home and into bed. She was worried about how tired she was. Cassandra hadn’t seemed so tired after the couple of times Hermione had seen her do a partial transformation.

“Why are you looking after me?” Fleur asked dejectedly, “I’ve been so angry with you. You’d probably rather Amelie by now.”

“I only ever wanted you,” Hermione said, wrapping an arm around Fleur, “The brief thing with Amelie only ever validated my feelings for you even more.”

“Why didn’t you tell me though?” Fleur asked. Her voice was so miserable and tired that it broke Hermione’s heart.

“I wanted to… But I was afraid of this happening,” Hermione replied, “I just… I didn’t want you to get upset or question my feelings for you.”

Fleur didn’t reply, letting her eyes shut as she continued to lean against Hermione. But Hermione was just grateful that at least she’d had a chance to say her piece without getting frazzled by Fleur’s hormonal temper. She tightened her grip on the part-Veela, holding her close.

It didn’t take long before the carriage arrived at Grimmauld Place. Hermione paid the driver and carried Fleur inside and up the stairs. She helped the blonde undress to her underwear, then scooped her into bed and tucked her in. Fleur fell asleep almost immediately.

Biting her lip with worry, Hermione pulled out her phone and headed downstairs. She dialed Alexandre’s number straight away.

“Hello, Hermione, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Alexandre greeted warmly.

“Alexandre, did Apolline ever partially transform into her Veela form during her pregnancy?” Hermione asked, trying to keep the concern out of her voice. She didn’t want to worry the man more than necessary.

“Oh,” Alexandre replied neutrally. Hermione briefly cursed the man’s ability to hide his reactions like Fleur often did.

“Hold on, Hermione, Cassandra is just outside on the lawn, I will put her on,” Alexandre said briskly.

Hermione shuffled between her feet nervously in the moments that followed as Alexandre went in search of Cassandra.

“Salut,” came the sweet voice of Cassandra, “What can I help you with Hermione?”

“Cassandra, Fleur’s stupid best friend got her all upset about some past history between me and someone else,” Hermione said, her teeth on edge even retelling the details, “I got in a fight with him and while trying to break it up, Fleur partially transformed. Now she’s really exhausted! She could barely keep awake on the way home.”

“Ohh…” Cassandra said mysteriously.

Hermione waited impatiently for Cassandra to continue.

“What does it mean?” Hermione impatiently urged, “Is she going to be okay?”

“It is certainly unusual,” Cassandra replied, “It is very rare even for Apolline to undertake a partial transformation, and she is half blooded.”

“Yes, but what does that mean?” Hermione pressed, anxious.

“It means you’re getting close to having to make that decision about whether you will commit to Fleur or not,” Cassandra said evenly, “Her feelings seem to have grown for you. The level of distress she has shown indicates that. You need to minimize her stress for the rest of her pregnancy. At this stage her Veela blood will be making her more unstable than ever. She should be taking it easy, focusing on resting up and nesting.”

“Nesting?!” Hermione asked, confused. Cassandra laughed; a light melodic laugh.

“You’ll know it when you see it, cherie,” Cassandra said, “Just focus on Fleur’s stress levels for now, non?”

“Right, eliminate stressors,” Hermione said thoughtfully.

“Eliminate Bill?” Cassandra asked playfully. Hermione made an awkward choking noise.

“I wasn’t thinking of anything as extreme as that!” Hermione yelped. Cassandra chuckled.

“Sure, Hermione,” Cassandra teased, “You know, sometimes you are not unlike the Veela yourself.”

“All right, well… Thanks Cassandra,” Hermione replied, “I’ll take care of Fleur.”

Hermione hung up, her head full of thoughts.

* * *

Hermione scarcely talked to the boys at dinner, still deep in thought after the events of the day. Harry and Ron queried where Fleur was, but all Hermione said was that Fleur was unwell and resting in their room.

She didn’t want to breach Fleur’s confidence by telling them about the transformation incident before she was ready. 

After dinner, Hermione took a long shower.

As the water beat down on her skin, Hermione shut her eyes and ran her fingers through her tangled curls.

She felt so bad for Fleur.

She’d never chosen any of this. Never chosen to be a Veela, never chosen to have pregnancy hormones like crazy, never chosen to end up with Hermione as her only option forever.

Hermione lathered up her hair and rinsed it slowly. It was therapeutic in a way, turning her mind to more positive thoughts.

She could protect Fleur. She could look after her. She could keep her happy.

Her mind turned to all the ways she could keep Fleur happy.

She soaped up her body, sighing.

The night she had surprised Fleur with dinner, the night of Fleur’s birthday…

Hermione’s mind drifted further, to Fleur’s silky expanse of pale skin, her body underneath Hermione’s own olive-skinned and scarred one. The way Fleur’s eyes clouded with a storminess as she was charged with emotion. The taste of Fleur’s lips on her own, sweeter than any honey or nectar. The way her body trembled as she came apart for Hermione.

Hermione found her hand had drifted southward and she had begun to pleasure herself at the thought of some of the filthier ways she could keep Fleur happy.

Her hand moved with a rapid rhythm, her eyes flickering shut as she bit down on her lip to stop a rogue moan from escaping.

Images of Fleur flashed through her mind as her pleasure built higher and higher. Thoughts drifted from dirty sexual scenarios to Hermione’s appreciation of Fleur in general.

Fleur’s long platinum-blonde hair and how it felt like silk when entwined in Hermione’s fingers.

Fleur biting down on her lump bottom lip.

Fleur’s back arching as she let out a breathy gasp.

The way her face finally, truly relaxed from it’s default aloofness when she felt at ease around Hermione.

The big smile on her face when she saw where Hermione had taken her for her birthday dinner.

Fleur’s sleeping face in the morning light when Hermione awoke before her. Delicate cheekbones and long eyelashes seeming so painfully beautiful as the sun and shadows played over her features.

The feeling when Fleur would take her hand so naturally it felt like all barriers between them were finally down for good.

Hermione gasped and shuddered, coming undone at her own ministrations. 

Panting, Hermione leaned bonelessly against the wall of the shower, her eyes opening again. In the afterglow of her orgasm, she had a moment of clarity.

* * *

Hermione stood in the darkness outside a heavy wooden door. The wind whipped harshly around her damp curls.

She really should have paused long enough after her shower to dry her hair properly, it would have only taken a simple spell. But Hermione’s mind was nothing but goal-driven, and right now she had a single goal in mind.

She raised her hand, knocking firmly at the door.

It opened slowly.

“Hermione? What are you doing here? And so late!” Bill Weasley was far from impressed.

He was not his usual impeccable self. He was in faded trackpants and one of Molly Weasley’s lumpy sweaters. His hair was tangled and greasy looking and he had none of his usual overconfident veneer.

Good, she had caught him off-guard. That would make the conversation go easier.

“I believe we are overdue for a talk,” Hermione said, pushing the door open and walking past Bill, not waiting for an invitation inside.


	22. Chapter 22

Hermione stepped into Bill’s place, glancing around the walls.

Bill must have been preparing for bed, as the room was only lit by a fireplace and a lone lamp in the corner of the room.

Hermione was immediately struck by how the apartment was entirely unlike what she had expected of Bill. She had expected something sleek and fashionable.

The apartment was more of a farmhouse style, that reminded Hermione greatly of The Burrow. It was small and decorated in a homely style. The walls, ceiling and floor were all made of a cheap wood. There was a simple threadbare couch and a small two-person table covered in a gingham tablecloth.

A vase of sunflowers sat on top of the table beside a basket of apples.

Bill seemed embarrassed.

“Do we have to do this right now?” Bill asked irritably.

Hermione noticed a large photo of the entire Weasley clan on a rickety bookshelf, beside a photo of Bill and Fleur. The smiling Bill and Fleur looped their arms over each other’s shoulders and waved out at Hermione.

“Yes, we do have to do this right now,” Hermione replied, turning from the humble decorations of Bill’s apartment to face him.

His red hair was loose and tumbling down to his shoulders, frizzy and wavy. He looked tired.

“Shouldn’t you be with Fleur?” Bill asked gruffly, crossing his arms tightly across his chest.

“I will be, soon,” Hermione replied, “She’s in quite a state after her partial transformation. Absolutely exhausted. I’ve never seen her quite like it.”

“Not that you’ve known her long enough to know whether or not she has been that exhausted before,” Bill muttered acidly, before looking up in earnest, “I didn’t mean to make her transform like that. I didn’t even know she could.”

“After you got over making Fleur feel bad for being a Veela and getting pregnant by a woman, I wondered what your issue was with _me,_ ” Hermione said, “You always seemed to have something nasty to say about me. But then I realized you were jealous and thought I was taking up all Fleur’s time.”

“Well, you are,” Bill replied, “I barely ever see her outside of work now. Then when I invited her for dinner, she insisted on bringing you.”

“She probably just wants her best friend and girlfriend to get along,” Hermione pointed out waspishly.

“Ever the know-it-all,” Bill shot back snidely, rolling his eyes, “I don’t know what she sees in you.”

“Well, you don’t have to know what she sees in me,” Hermione replied, her voice raising with her temper, “All you need to know is that your best friend _does_ see something in me. I’m in this for the long haul and you need to get over yourself and find a way to deal with that.”

“It was always supposed to be me and Fleur,” Bill replied sulkily, “We always had the same terrible luck in our dating lives. We had a pact that we would grow old together like miserable spinsters.”

“Touching, but don’t you think you should be happy she has found someone?” Hermione replied, putting her hands on her hips, “Someone who is going to look after her forever?”

“How do I know you’ll do that?” Bill scoffed, “How do I know you aren’t just infatuated with her looks like everyone else? That you won’t just leave her in the lurch with a baby?”

“I would never do that!” Hermione scowled, “Has she not told you about the Veela mating? How we connect?”

Bill shook his head.

“She… She doesn’t really talk much about her Veela blood with me, and I don’t talk about my werewolf stuff with her either.” Bill said, rubbing the back of his neck, “I mean, she mentioned something about you guys being mates when she was telling me to lay off... But she didn’t go into any huge detail.”

“I have a choice to walk away,” Hermione replied, “Fleur wouldn’t be able to be in a relationship with anyone else ever again, but we would both be healthy. But I can choose to commit to her, meaning that we will be bound together for the rest of our lives. We couldn’t leave each other without both of us becoming really sick. I’m going to tell her when she is well enough that I’m ready to take that step when it comes.”

“You would really do that?” Bill asked, appearing a little unconvinced.

“I really would,” Hermione replied.

“You care about Fleur that much?” Bill asked.

“Let’s put it another way,” Hermione said with a too-wide smile, “I would have loved nothing more than to come here and hex you five different ways into next week week. But because you’re her best friend, and she cares about you even if you’re a jerk, I’m here to make myself understood. I’m committed to Fleur and nothing you say or do is going to stop that.”

“How generous of you,” Bill replied sardonically.

“If you’re not going to quit being a jerk for me, quit being one for Fleur’s sake,” Hermione replied, “The stress is absolutely awful for her and the baby. When you try to turn her against me, you just cause her more stress.”

This seemed to hit Bill hard. He sat down, the bitterness fading off his face for a moment. He ran his hands through his hair.

“I did feel quite bad when she transformed…” Bill murmured.

“So, you’re going to lay off?” Hermione asked.

“I’m going to make sure Fleur isn’t stressed out,” Bill corrected with a contemptuous sniff, “I still don’t like you.”

“You don’t have to like me,” Hermione shot back, walking to the door. She was satisfied that at least Bill would stop interfering enough that Fleur wouldn’t be provoked into stress. She turned back to the redhead, sitting unhappily on the threadbare couch in his small apartment.

“But if you do cause Fleur any more stress, I _will_ be back to hex you into next week,” Hermione threatened, leaving the apartment and shutting the door sharply behind her.

It was late when Hermione finally arrived back home. The boys both appeared to have retired for the night and all the lights were off. Hermione was glad that Ron hadn’t stayed up to press her about why she needed to know where Bill lived.

Tired, and feeling at least a little victorious, Hermione climbed the stairs and entered her room. Her eyes fell on the blonde lying in her bed and she felt her heart flutter.

Fleur looked so innocent and vulnerable while she slept. She was sleeping on her back and looking very much like a pregnant sleeping beauty. She was breathing deeply and her platinum-blonde hair fanned out around her head like a halo.

Hermione walked over to her slumbering girlfriend and placed a hand on top of her pregnant belly, smiling as she felt the gentlest of kicks from their son within. Hermione leant down and pressed her lips to Fleur’s forehead.

It was awful that Fleur had exhausted herself so much and that her hormonal temper had been raging lately, but the upside of the entire debacle was that at least Hermione had got to explain herself in the Thestral carriage.

Hermione walked to the wardrobe, stretching her stiff neck and shoulders. She stripped off her clothes tiredly, before pulling on some boxers and her favourite faded Weird Sisters tee. She padded back across the room and climbed into bed, nestling into Fleur as sleep finally greeted her.

* * *

Hermione’s opened her eyes to deep pools of sapphire blue.

A lazy smile stretched across her face as she realized that Fleur was watching her contentedly, no sign of a flared temper in sight.

“How are you feeling?” Hermione asked softly, her voice a little hoarse from sleep.

“Far more rested,” Fleur replied gently, “Thank you for looking after me yesterday.”

“Of course,” Hermione replied with a smile, sitting up in bed. She found her hand drifted to rest protectively on Fleur’s stomach.

“You were there for me even though I was furious and snapping at you,” Fleur commented, getting a little teary and blushing, “Urgh, stupid hormones.”

Hermione felt her stomach flutter a little at the emotional Veela in front of her.

“They aren’t stupid,” Hermione smiled, “Yes, it wasn’t very nice having you angry with me, but it is all part and parcel of being a supportive partner to my pregnant girlfriend.”

“And you really do want to be with me?” Fleur asked, biting her lip. A stray tear rolled down her cheek, “Even though someone like Amelie might be easier?”

Hermione wiped Fleur’s tear away with her thumb before cupping her face.

“Nothing good comes easy,” Hermione chuckled, “And I would choose to go through a thousand trials to be with you over anything easy with anyone else.”

Fleur leaned forward, kissing Hermione gently. Hermione welcomed the kiss eagerly after the bout of frostiness she had been receiving of late. Fleur soon slipped her tongue into her mouth and Hermione was in heaven, allowing her hands to travel freely across the body she had sorely missed.

Fleur’s stomach was pressed against her and she felt a strong kick. The two women broke the kiss, looking at each other with wide eyes and wider smiles.

“He sure is getting strong,” Hermione commented proudly.

“Oui,” Fleur smiled, “Just like his English mum.”

Hermione placed her hand back on Fleur’s belly. They were getting so close to the end now.

“I hope you are going to rest up,” Hermione said seriously, looking up at Fleur with concern.

Fleur smiled at her disarmingly.

“While you were sleeping the morning away, I already went in to the office and discussed with my boss. I will be working from home on research projects until our baby boy comes.” Fleur informed her, “I’ve been up, breakfasted, been into work, and come back to bed all before you have even opened your eyes.”

“Sleeping the morning away?!” Hermione yelped, sitting up in bed. She checked her watch. It was indeed eleven thirty in the morning.

Fleur giggled.

“Aw, my cherie,” Fleur replied, “Are you getting tired from looking after a pregnant girlfriend?”

Hermione inwardly thought to herself that the hormonal mood swings were indeed tiring, but wisely kept that to herself.

“I was a bit busy after I put you to bed,” Hermione half-explained. Further elaboration was halted as there was a sharp rapping at the window.

Hermione got up and let in a great horned owl, followed by a regal looking barn owl. Fleur fetched the pouch of owl treats and came to feed the little creatures while Hermione worked at the letters.

She tore open the thick package from the great horned owl first, noticing it had a Ministry seal on it.

“What is it?” Fleur asked, feeding the owls.

“I got the job,” Hermione said, grinning widely, “It is a letter of offer and a contract for employment!”

“Oh I knew you would!” Fleur kissed her cheek briefly, before being interrupted by the horned owl nipping at her finger, “Merde!”

She shooed the horned owl out the window while Hermione turned her attentions to the pretty barn owl. Elegant looping writing adorned the envelope.

Hermione opened it carefully. It was from Cassandra.

_“My dearest Hermione,_

_Thank you for calling and consulting with me on Fleur. We can never be too careful when it comes to our darling Fleur._

_I have enclosed some herbs that you can brew into a tea for Fleur, it should help keep her calm and aid her with recharging. For a fully blooded Veela, transformation is nothing. For those with human blood, it can be incredibly taxing. You should make sure she avoids any further transformations while she is carrying the baby._

_I can tell you and Fleur are progressing rapidly with your bond. Soon I trust you will understand creatures even more, as it comes close to the time to confirm the bond (should that be what you choose, of course! Do not let me push you in one direction or another—the choice is yours)._

_Do let us know immediately if any other difficulties arise with the pregnancy or with Fleur. We are all on hand to assist in any way we can._

_Fondly,_

_Cassandra”_

Fleur was looking over Hermione’s shoulder curiously.

“You talked to my grandmere yesterday?” Fleur asked, surprised.

“Well, yeah,” Hermione responded, folding the letter up, “I was really worried about you! Even though you’re feeling better today, I think we should brew you up some tea with these herbs just to be sure.”

Fleur kissed Hermione gently.

“You really do look after me,” Fleur said, smiling fondly.

Hermione felt on top of the world. She had looked after her woman, she had quashed Bill’s meddling ways, and she had eased Fleur’s hormonal temper for now.

The day was spent in domestic calm, Fleur setting up Hermione’s desk space for her researching from home and Hermione reading through her contract. She made sure to brew a couple of teas for Fleur. By the early evening, Fleur was quite sleepy and lay down for a nap while Hermione signed her contract and owled it back to the Ministry.

When she closed the window on the owl, she turned around to look at the slumbering Fleur. She was curled up on top of the covers, a small knit throw covering her. The sight made Hermione’s chest ache.

She came and sat on the bed beside Fleur’s sleeping form, leaning against the pillows. She ran her hand through Fleur’s silky blonde hair.

Fleur made a sulky murmuring noise, shuffling in her sleep to wrap her arms around Hermione’s legs. She snuggled into her, resting her head on Hermione’s thighs. Hermione smiled at how adorable Fleur was in sleep.

She wondered what life would be like when the baby arrived. Less sleep, no doubt. Hermione wondered what Fleur would be like with a baby. She couldn’t even imagine it. Fleur was so prim and reserved most of the time. But the more time Hermione spent around Fleur with her guard down, the more sides of her Hermione saw.

* * *

Hermione smoothed down her shirt nervously as she headed into the Ministry. It was the first day of her new job.

She had left Fleur sitting at the desk in their room starting some research, a hot mug of tea in one hand and a knitted throw around her shoulders. Hermione still had a smile on her face at the image of her pregnant girlfriend settling in to her new work from home reality.

Ideally, Fleur wouldn’t be working at all for the rest of her pregnancy, in Hermione’s opinion. But if anyone understood the frustration of an inactive mind, it was Hermione.

“Miss Granger! Welcome!” a portly man from Hermione’s job interview ambled over to her.

Hermione remembered him as Harald Lemnos, the Head of the Department. He took her hand and shook it firmly.

“Oh, hello Mr Lemnos,” Hermione greeted politely, “I’m not too early, am I?”

“Not at all!” Lemnos replied jovially, “Just in time to meet the rest of the team in fact!”

Lemnos introduced Hermione to the rest of the team. There was a Mrs Shrewsberry, a homely middle aged woman with a beige perm; a thin man in his mid-30s called Ralph Buckle; and a middle aged balding man called Mr Lanolin, who reminded Hermione terribly of Arthur Weasley.

As Lemnos introduced each of them, they gave Hermione a polite introduction of themselves, their careers to date and their families.

“How about you, Granger?” Ralph Buckle asked, “Got a family of your own yet?”

Hermione smiled shyly.

“I do have a girlfriend at home and a baby on the way,” Hermione said, feeling happiness bubble within her at getting to proudly tell her new team about Fleur and the baby.

“Oh, how unconventional!” Mrs Shrewsberry croaked, earning a suspicious look from the Golden Girl. Hermione hoped it didn’t signal any bigoted views amongst her team.

Lemnos, oblivious to Mrs Shrewsberry’s comment, ushered Hermione to a modest looking desk in the corner of the room.

“When you get a little more senior, you’ll get your own office like Lanolin and I do!” Lemnos said encouragingly.

Hermione smiled politely, sitting down at her desk.

“So… How should I get started?” Hermione asked.

Lemnos smiled appraisingly, producing a hefty stack of papers, books and folders.

“As we discussed in your interview… We’re well overdue for some fresh blood in this department,” Lemnos said, “But before we can get your thinking on new directions, we need you to get up to speed! I hope you don’t mind vast amounts of reading!”

Hermione smirked; her loving reading was perhaps the biggest understatement of all time.

Lemnos set the stack of reading down in front of Hermione, creating a small mountain on Hermione’s desk.

Hermione leaned back, clicking her neck and shoulders. Time for the ole Hermione Granger deep dive…

* * *

Hermione ran her hand through her wayward curls, finally looking around the office. She was surprised to find it totally empty. Looking at her watch, she found why – it was already 7pm! Hermione had forgotten how easy she found it to get entirely engrossed in her work.

She stood up, stretching her stiff muscles before selecting a couple of the readings to take home with her for further reading.

Hermione’s shoes echoed on the floors of the empty Ministry as she headed off towards the Floo fireplaces with her leather satchel firmly on her shoulder.

She stepped through the atrium, the scene of so much chaos years earlier. They had rebuilt the Fountain of Magical Brethren that stood there, to Hermione’s perpetual distaste. It was of a wizard and witch with various magical creatures fawning over them and subjugating themselves to the humans. It made Hermione seriously wonder if wizard-kind had learnt anything from the war at all.

Hermione yawned. She hoped Ron, Harry and Fleur hadn’t had dinner yet. Or had at least left her something to eat.

She tossed from Floo powder in the nearest fireplace, relieved there wasn’t a line to head home.

Hermione got out in the dining room of Grimmauld Place, glad to see that the boys and Fleur were still at the dining table and only just starting their dinner.

“Cherie, there you are,” Fleur smiled at her, “I was beginning to worry.”

“Lord, I’m relieved you’ve learnt to stay on your missus’ good side now,” Ron said to Hermione, tucking into his large bowl of risotto, “It’s nice to have a relaxed meal with Fleur instead of Harry and I having to calm her down.”

“What—That wasn’t—None of that was my fault!” Hermione stuttered, irritated at Ron, before deciding to let it go, “You know what, you can’t ruin my day.”

“How was your first day at the new job?” Fleur asked, as Hermione slid into the seat beside her.

“Pretty good!” Hermione said, “The team is quite small, and most of them are quite a bit older than me. But there is a lot of work to be done and a lot to get across! I’m actually really looking forward to the challenge. Once I get through the stacks of reading, that is.”

“Stacks of reading? Sounds like the perfect job for you!” Harry smirked.

“You laugh, but it really does seem like it,” Hermione grinned, “Not to get ahead of myself, but I really think I’ll fit in well.”

Fleur flashed her a pleased smile and Hermione felt her stomach flip a little. Not even teasing from the boys about being a nerd or a know-it-all could ruin her mood.

“Ron and I have interviews at the Auror Department,” Harry chimed in, “If things go well, we could _all_ be working at the Ministry! Imagine that!”

“That would be wonderful!” Hermione replied, “We would be able to have lunches together.”

“ _Plus_ Harry and I would be able to kick some serious Death Eater ass!” Ron said, punching the air so vigorously he splattered some of his risotto onto the table.

“How was hitting the research side of Curse Breaking?” Hermione asked Fleur, “Have you recovered enough that you could concentrate okay? No naps needed?”

“It wasn’t so bad,” Fleur shrugged, “It isn’t quite the adrenaline rush that practical Curse work is. And oui, I was fine today! No naps required! All thanks to you looking after me so well.”

Hermione rubbed the back of her neck shyly.

“Well, I have to look after my girlfriend,” Hermione replied.

Fleur leaned in and pecked her on the cheek.

“Mmn, and maybe I will make sure to _look after you_ tonight,” Fleur purred quietly. But apparently not so quietly that the boys didn’t hear, judging by the way Ron suddenly began to choke on his risotto.

Hermione felt her internal temperature rise at Fleur’s suggestive words. Everything about the Frenchwoman drove her wild.

Hermione placed a hand on Fleur’s thigh, smiling widely. Ron rolled his eyes and Hermione couldn’t help but smirk at how jealous he was that _she_ had got the girl in the end.

Hermione sped up the pace at which she was eating her dinner, one hand still on Fleur’s thigh. She was finding she was becoming more and more possessive and protective of Fleur. She wasn’t sure if it was to do with Fleur’s pregnancy, the bond of being mates, or just her general feelings for Fleur.

Fleur seemed to like it, judging by the satisfied smile she had on her face.

Hermione was glad that things had settled right down again. It made her feel like she was doing a good job of keeping Fleur happy and safe.

“So, since I cooked…” Ron began, as they finished their meals.

“… You and Harry won’t mind doing the dishes while I head upstairs with Fleur?” Hermione suggested quickly.

“Oh hold on just a minute!” Ron protested, “Just because you have a girlfriend doesn’t mean I have to do all the housework around here! I’ve had just about enough of you living the good life while I slave away…”

Hermione, sensing an incoming jealous Weasley tantrum, decided to take the bullet on this issue. She would rather do some dishes than wrangle another wayward Weasley temper. Besides, the last thing she wanted was Fleur getting upset and hormonal again. Not with sex on the table, anyway…

Hermione smiled good naturedly.

“Okay, fine, I’ll do the dishes,” Hermione conceded, getting up and collecting the plates.

“I can help,” Fleur offered, joining Hermione in collecting empty plates and goblets as the boys scarpered off.

Hermione plugged the sink and ran some hot water with dish soap. Fleur came up beside her, stacking the cookware Ron had used neatly beside the dirty plates.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Hermione said, swirling the hot water with one hand as it began to foam, “I like doing dishes the Muggle way. It reminds me of home.”

Fleur nodded, grabbing a nearby dish towel and moving to Hermione’s other side. She was quieter this evening, making her seem serene in her beauty.

“Do you miss your home?” Fleur asked.

“Sometimes,” Hermione said slipping the plates and goblets into the soapy water, “I grew up in a sleepy little village. I didn’t have that many friends at school, so I don’t really have any Muggle friends I left behind.”

“Why didn’t you have many friends at school?” Fleur asked, as Hermione began to scrub at the dishes.

Hermione smiled humorlessly.

“Bushy haired, buck-toothed, bookworm know-it-all?” Hermione said, repeating all the schoolyard taunts she had grown up hearing, “I was hardly popular.”

Fleur took the first dishes from her, beginning to dry them with the dish towel. She cast a sidelong glance at Hermione.

“I don’t know, you sound like you were very cute,” Fleur said with a small smile.

Hermione laughed.

“I’ll have to show you a photograph sometime,” Hermione said, “I grew up in a pretty ordinary house. I never really had that sentimental connection that some people have to their childhood homes.”

“Mmn, I never really had that either,” Fleur commented, drying some goblets, “So there is nothing that you really miss?”

“I miss my parents,” Hermione said, fixing her gaze intently on the pots and pans she was now scrubbing, “I really wish the Memory Charm on them hadn’t been permanent. But I suppose, at least they are happy-- wherever they are.”

Hermione could feel the look Fleur was giving her. The pregnancy hormones made the blonde very sentimental at times.

“So… Uh, have you given any thoughts to the name for our baby?” Hermione asked, changing the subject. They hadn’t discussed names since Fleur had created an impossibly long scroll of options earlier in her pregnancy.

“Hmmm, I would not mind something strong and masculine like Jacques,” Fleur smiled, “I have always liked that name. Do you have any names you are drawn towards?”

Hermione smiled sadly.

“I wouldn’t mind Hugo… It was— _is_ —my father’s name,” Hermione said, correcting herself. Sometimes it was easier to think of her parents as dead and she slipped in conversation.

“Hugo Jacques,” Fleur said with a smile, “It has a ring to it, non?”

“It does,” Hermione said, smiling. She felt significantly cheered up at the thought of her son being named after her father.

“It just leaves the question of last name,” Fleur said, drying the last of the pots and pans.

“I suppose you want him to keep the Delacour name,” Hermione said, arching an eyebrow. She knew how proud Fleur and her family were.

“I could be swayed,” Fleur said slowly.

Hermione drained the sink, turning to Fleur. She could see a glint in the blonde’s eye that drew her in. She snatched the dishtowel from Fleur’s hands, tossing it carelessly to one side.

Fleur’s pupils dilated as Hermione placed a hand on the countertop either side of Fleur, penning her in.

Hermione leaned in, letting her lips brush the smooth skin of Fleur’s neck. She inhaled the sweet smell of vanilla and lilies that seemed to naturally emanate from the Frenchwoman’s skin. Something about it made her teeth ache.

Ignoring the strange ache, Hermione brought her lips up to Fleur’s ear teasingly.

“You think I could convince you to make our child a Granger?” Hermione murmured.

  
Fleur shivered in her arms.

“Perhaps,” Fleur said, her voice a little unsteady.

“Maybe with enough convincing, someday I could get you to take the name too,” Hermione added, before dropping a kiss to Fleur’s neck.

The blonde let out a small, breathy sigh.

“Can we go upstairs now?” Fleur asked.

Hermione nodded, taking Fleur’s hand and leading her out of the kitchen and upstairs to their room.

It took a lot to distract Hermione from either study or sex, but she was stopped right in her tracks as she entered the room.

“Er… Fleur… What happened?” Hermione asked, her jaw dropping.

The room had been completely and utterly transformed.

It had been repainted a baby blue, with small wiggling images of pastel yellow ducks. A bassinet was in one corner of the room with a mobile over the top of it.

Their bed had changed from an elegant and fashionable style to something decidedly cosier. It was all fluffy blankets and cushions. Hermione could hardly see where they would actually sleep.

Suddenly Cassandra’s heads up about ‘nesting’ made sense.

Fleur shrugged.

“Little Hugo will be along soon enough,” Fleur said.

Hermione wasn’t about to object to that. Their room being totally revamped in a frantic nesting process was the probably the least inconvenient Veela pregnancy reaction thus far.

“It looks lovely, darling,” Hermione said, leaning in to kiss Fleur’s cheek, “Now where were we…?”


	23. Chapter 23

Hermione jolted awake.

She wasn’t sure what had woken her at first. Something deep within her seemed to have jolted.

In her just-awoken daze, she noticed that Fleur was also awake, and clutching her stomach.

“Fleur what’s—oh my God, is the bed wet?” Hermione asked, becoming more aware of her surroundings.

“Argh! My water broke!” Fleur groaned, her pretty face pinched with pain.

Hermione immediately leapt out of bed.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God! Are you having _contractions_?!” Hermione yelped, wringing her hands, “We need to get to St Mungo’s right away!”

Hermione ran to the wardrobe to get some clothes, halting partway. Maybe she should get Fleur up first. She ran back towards the bed, before halting again. Maybe she should get ready before getting Fleur up??

Hermione darted back and forth in a panic, unsure of what to do.

“Hermione!” Fleur groaned.

Hermione, yelping, dragged on a hoodie and some jeans before grabbing some clothes for Fleur. She managed to help Fleur out of bed and into some clothes, flinching at the pain Fleur seemed to be in whenever her contractions hit.

“Harry! Ron!” Hermione hollered as loud as she could manage.

The door burst open and Harry and Ron scrambled in, wands out and at the ready.

“Wha’ izzit?!” Ron sleepily bellowed, “Intruder?!”

The poor sleepy boy’s hair was all stuck up at the back and he was in his stripey pajamas. Harry looked just as sleep-ruffled, but a little more alert.

“Fleur’s having the baby!” Hermione shrieked, “Can one of you summon us a carriage to get to St Mungo’s?”

“On it, ‘Mione!” both boys replied in unison, crashing into each other as they hurried out the doorway.

Hermione then grabbed a nearby duffle, tossing into it things they might need while at St Mungo’s.

Fleur whimpered and Hermione promptly zipped the bag up and was at her side in a second.

“Are you okay?” Hermione asked, alarmed.

“What do you think?” Fleur hissed sarcastically from between her gritted teeth. She seemed in a great deal of pain.

“Carriage is here!” Ron bellowed from down the stairs.

“Fleur can you… _Sod it,_ ” Hermione growled protectively, not even wanting to ask Fleur to walk down the stairs. She slung the duffle bag over her shoulder before sweeping Fleur into her arms—beyond grateful for the extra strength the bond had provided her with.

Hermione swept through Grimmauld Place, flinching every time Fleur whimpered or groaned with pain. She sorely wished she could ease the pain for Fleur, but had no idea how to without potentially harming the baby.

Harry and Ron were nervously pacing near the front door, shouting words of encouragement Hermione could barely comprehend in her frantic state. She yelped some kind of thanks as she rushed out the door, Fleur’s platinum blonde hair fluttering behind them.

It was all a blur as they sped off in the carriage and then into St Mungo’s. Hermione felt a horrible combination of sensations; kind of like she might simultaneously throw up, faint or shout.

Hermione came back to her senses as a young nurse approached her, repeating her name.

“Miss Granger? Are you okay?” the nurse asked.

Hermione had been staring at Fleur, who was being checked over for the umpteenth time by a Healer.

“Oh! Erm, yes, thanks!” Hermione replied, rubbing the back of her neck, “Sorry… It’s just all a bit overwhelming…”

“Understandable!” the young nurse replied, “But the action part is still some time away. You should take a moment to have a coffee and talk to any relatives you need to.”

“Oh, right!” Hermione registered. Births did tend to take several hours. Hermione had been glued to Fleur’s side since they had arrived into the wizarding hospital, unwilling to leave in case she missed something. She realized it would be remiss of her not to step out and let Fleur’s family know.

Hermione nodded her thanks to the nurse, requesting that she come and find her _immediately_ if Fleur’s status were to change. She then kissed Fleur on the forehead and ducked out, making a beeline for the coffee machine she knew to be a few hallways over.

The black coffee the dinged-up machine made was suspiciously thick, almost a consistency of syrup. Hermione rather suspected there was some magic at play, but didn’t care—as long as it would keep her awake for Fleur.

With the lukewarm coffee in one hand, Hermione then whipped out her phone, quickly calling Alexandre.

“Hi Hermione,” Alexandre greeted after just one ring, “It is quite early in the morning here… Is everything okay?”

“Fleur’s in labour!” Hermione gasped excitedly, “I’m just as St Mungo’s now. The baby is still a little while off… But it’s happening, Alexandre!”

“Merde!” Alexandre shouted, “Apolline! Wake up! We’re going to be grandparents!”

Hermione had to hold the phone a little far away from her ear as Fleur’s parents excitedly shrieked at the other end of the line. It made Hermione wonder for a moment how her own parents would be reacting to the news of becoming grandparents. Her spirits fell at the thought.

“Hermione? Hermione are you there?” Alexandre was back on the end of the phone.

“Yes,” Hermione answered, her eyes brimming a little with tears.

“We’ll be there as soon as we can,” Alexandre replied, “In the meantime, look after our girl!”

“I will sir,” Hermione replied, smiling a little, “I’ll see you soon.”

She hung up, pocketing her phone. She sipped at the thick coffee, ambling slowly along the hallways back to Fleur’s room.

What she wouldn’t give to have her parents there to support her and Fleur. Hermione was sure they would be shocked at her ending up with a woman—not to mention getting said woman pregnant—but they would have been ecstatic at becoming grandparents.

_‘Now isn’t the time to wallow,’_ Hermione told herself, _‘Today is the most exciting day of your life!’_

Draining her coffee and binning the cup, Hermione headed back into Fleur’s room.

* * *

It had been about fourteen hours and Fleur was squeezing the life out of Hermione’s hand. The brunette wouldn’t be shocked if some bones were broken with the intensity Fleur was squeezing it with.

Fleur was finally pushing their baby out and Hermione couldn’t be more terrified. Terrified and overjoyed. It was a curious mix.

“Come on, Fleur,” Hermione encouraged, “You’re doing so well!”

“Merde!” Fleur screamed, “It hurts _so_ much, Hermione!”

“Fleur you’ve done so well already!” Hermione pushed her on, “He’s almost here!”

The Healer at the other end of the bed nodded her assent, encouraging Fleur.

“Just one more push should do it!” the Healer called out.

Fleur screamed, sweat dripping down her face and neck, her chest heaving. Hermione felt her fingers crushed even more in the tight grip of Fleur, but dared not comment on how much it hurt. Not while Fleur was obviously in such agony.

Small cries broke out in the room and Hermione gasped.

“Aaaand here he is!” the Healer exclaimed, fussing a little at the tail end of the table.

Soon the Healer handed Hermione a small bundle.

Hermione was vaguely aware of tears rolling down her cheeks as she looked down at the small, chubby face in her arms. The baby stopped crying, almost as if he immediately knew who Hermione was.

Hermione felt a stillness within her. She felt like she was finally whole.

“Fleur,” Hermione sniffled, “Fleur, here’s our little boy!”

“Let me see!” Fleur insisted, reaching out to grab at Hermione’s arms.

Smiling, Hermione leaned in and passed the little baby to Fleur. Fleur held him carefully, tears springing to her own sapphire eyes.

“Our little Hugo Jacques Granger,” Fleur said sweetly. It caused even more tears to tumble down Hermione’s face. She wasn’t sure she had ever felt so warm and complete before.

Fleur looked the most unedited her Veela blood would allow. Her platinum-blonde hair was damp with sweat and her face was flushed from exertion. But Hermione felt blessed that she could see Fleur in such a vulnerable state.

“I believe you have some people waiting outside for you,” the Healer told Hermione.

“Will you be okay in here with Hugo while I duck out to let them know the news?” Hermione asked Fleur. Fleur looked up at Hermione, her eyes shimmering with happiness. She nodded at Hermione before dropping her eyes to Hugo again.

Hermione beamed, heading out into the hallway.

Hermione might not have her parents, but the closest thing to family were all gathered in the hall for her. Harry, Ron, Ginny, Mrs Weasley, Mr Weasley and the Delacours were all waiting patiently.

“Hermione! How did it go?” Harry asked, lighting up as she appeared.

“Hugo Jacques Granger has been born without any issues and is a healthy young boy,” Hermione announced to the cheers of her loved ones.

Hermione was almost bowled over as everyone rushed her at once to hug her and offer congratulations.

Hermione vaguely wondered if being the other parent just meant being crushed a lot, eagerly gulping in air as she was released.

A nurse came out and approached the group.

“We’ve got Fleur and baby Hugo all set up now,” she smiled, “If you and a few others would like to go on through, she’s ready for visitors.”

Alexandre and Apolline stepped forward, followed by a wriggly Gabrielle and serene Cassandra.

Hermione moved to follow them when the nurse suddenly halted them.

“Er, sorry… This is a little uncomfortable… But we cannot allow her in here,” the nurse said, nodding at Cassandra.

“Why on Earth not?” Alexandre asked in his thick accent, his face was impassive as always, but Hermione could tell he was not happy.

“We… Er… _Creatures_ are not allowed in a human hospital around patients,” the nurse said awkwardly, flushing a little with discomfort.

“Excusez-moi?” Cassandra asked, unperturbed, “I am allowed in the hospitals in France.”

“Yes, well, that may be the case… But here…” the nurse trailed off.

Hermione was very low on sleep and beyond having any semblance of tolerance.

“Look here,” Hermione snapped, “This is Fleur’s _grandmother_.”

“But if I allow her in, then what next?” the nurse tried to explain patiently, “Then people would be bringing in Nifflers, owls, cats…”

“Are you seriously that bigoted?” Hermione seethed, leaning forward, “I didn’t go through that goddamn war just to see this kind of inequality.”

“Oh—erm--- Hermione _Granger_ —of course! You’re from the Golden Trio!” the nurse stammered, suddenly piecing together who Hermione was.

“I don’t care if you know me from fucking kindergarten,” Hermione growled, protectiveness taking over, “You’re letting Fleur’s family in to see her.”

“But—“

“That wasn’t a question,” Hermione cut off the nurse.

The nurse, wisely deciding not to piss off a decorated war hero, backed down, paling and nodding.

“Uh- of course,” the nurse simpered, “Go right ahead!”

Hermione narrowed her eyes, but Cassandra put a hand on her shoulder.

“I am used to it, Hermione,” Cassandra murmured, “Let us just see our Fleur.”

“Okay,” Hermione replied begrudgingly.

The Delacours and Hermione entered Fleur’s hospital room.

Fleur was already looking better, but still exhausted. She was holding Hugo tightly in her arms, a proud smile lighting up her features.

“Fleur!” Apolline exclaimed, running to her daughter’s side.

“I want to see the baby!” Gabrielle insisted, rushing over beside her mother.

Alexandre hung back, reserved as ever. He put a hand on Hermione’s shoulder, a smile on his face.

“You did well, Hermione,” Alexandre said.

“You did, Hermione,” Cassandra agreed in her alluring voice.

“Guys, Fleur did all the hard work here,” Hermione replied, embarrassed. She rubbed the back of her neck.

“But you have protected her and supported her,” Cassandra said, “You are proving to be a very worthy mate.”

Now Apolline and Gabrielle had finished showering Fleur with their exuberant style of congratulations, Alexandre and Cassandra moved forward in a far more demure fashion. Hermione stepped in, taking Hugo from Fleur so they could hug Fleur.

“How are you feeling, Fleur?” Alexandre asked, “We’re all very proud of you.”

“Exhausted, sore,” Fleur replied with a sigh, “Still bloated.”

“Ah my darling little Fleur,” Cassandra smiled, pulling her handbag up on the bed, “I anticipated as much and brought you a special Veela treatment. You must keep it to yourself though, this is one that witches would really die to get their hands on.”

Curious, Hermione looked as Cassandra withdrew some dried berries from her handbag. She put her hand over them briefly, muttering in a language that Hermione didn’t recognize at all.

“That wasn’t French…” Hermione noted.

“Ancient Veela,” Cassandra said with a wink, “We usually do not speak it in front of non-Veela family—or show any of our secret remedies… But you are so close to Fleur now I am making an exception.”

Hermione hummed with interest, leaning in to watch as Cassandra took one of the berries and fed it to the tired Fleur. She put the rest in a small pouch and placed it on Fleur’s bedside table.

“Take one every hour and you will bounce back impressively fast,” Cassandra said proudly, a regal smile on her face, “But remember—no telling humans about it.”

“Oui, grandmere,” Fleur replied dutifully. She was already looking a little more energized.

Hermione held their precious little baby while Fleur’s family continued to fuss over her. She let them all have a turn at holding Hugo, of course, but not for long. Hermione was feeling very protective of her little son. She wasn’t sure how she would handle having to put him down to sleep.

Before visiting hours were over, Hermione got to introduce little Hugo to Harry, Ron, Ginny and the Weasley parents. It didn’t quite fill the chasm within her at not being able to introduce him to her own parents, but it did feel fantastic.

A Healer stopped by, commenting on Fleur’s alarmingly rapid recovery, before lights were out. Fleur smiled serenely, dutifully not disclosing the Veela remedy she had been taking.

Then finally Fleur and Hermione were alone.

It was late and Hugo was sleeping soundly in a nearby bassinet. Hermione smiled and clambered up onto Fleur’s bed to lie beside her. They stared up at the ceiling, tired out after a whirlwind couple of days.

“Can you believe we actually have a son?” Fleur asked.

“I know… It’s amazing,” Hermione replied, “Are you feeling okay?”

Fleur wriggled even closer to her in the small bed.

“So much better,” Fleur sighed, “Grandmere’s remedy really is working wonders.”

Hermione meant to reply, but it turned out she hadn’t quite appreciated how light on sleep she had been. Her heavy eyes fell shut before she could even realize what was happening.

* * *

The next morning, Hermione was no more rested. Little Hugo had woke a number of times in the night, needing attention.

Fleur, on the other hand, was looking the picture of health. Hermione had half a mind to ask for one of the charmed dried berries herself.

Fleur was sitting on her bed, swinging her legs restlessly. Her hair was shimmering and glossy once more. Her face was dewy and fresh.

“When will we be able to get out of here?” Fleur asked irritably.

Hermione scoffed.

“You are the most impatient woman I have ever met,” Hermione replied with a smile. Fleur was almost as adorable as little Hugo.

Hermione was holding the healthy little baby in her arms as the Healer finally entered to check Fleur over. He was accompanied by two nurses.

“Oh—erm—which one of you had the baby?!” the Healer asked, confused.

“Moi,” Fleur answered impatiently, gesturing obviously at her hospital gown.

Hermione suppressed an eye roll. It was understandable the Healer was confused. Fleur looked like she had just walked in off a catwalk, not like she had just had a baby. Cassandra hadn’t exaggerated when she had said witches would kill to get their hands on such a remedy.

“Er, right,” the Healer replied, running through the usual diagnostic spells, “Very curious…”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at the suspicious looks the nurses were giving Fleur.

The Healer finished up, putting away his wand.

“Well… Er, Miss Delacour,” the Healer began, sounding baffled, “You’re more than good to go! I’ve never seen anything quite like it!”

“Bon,” Fleur replied icily, hoisting herself off the bed and immediately tossing her hospital gown off, “Hermione, where are my clothes?”

The Healer gasped at Fleur’s flawless body.

“May I ask how you recovered so quickly from a pregnancy?” the Healer asked, agape.

“Non,” Fleur replied dismissively.

Hermione handed the duffel bag to Fleur and she eagerly unzipped it, fishing out clothes. The Healer left, disappointed. The nurses, hoever, had remained and were gossiping amongst themselves.

“Have you ever seen a woman recover that fast from having a baby?” one nurse murmured, “What is her secret??”

“Therese said she’s a _Veela_ ,” the other nurse replied scandalously.

“If you’re quite done gossiping about the mother of my child,” Hermione interrupted tersely.

“I mean, that kind of recovery _can’t_ be human,” one of the nurses continued, ignoring Hermione.

“When I’m done hexing you, you won’t look human either,” Hermione growled.

The nurses gasped, paling.

“Hermione, cherie,” Fleur chided, “They’re just jealous. Leave them be. We don’t want to upset Hugo.”

“Fine,” Hermione sighed, before glaring at the nurses, “You’re lucky she’s in a good mood today. Don’t let me catch you gossiping about my girlfriend again.”

The nurses didn’t reply, scarpering out the door before Hermione could be angered further. Fleur chuckled and walked up to Hermione, leaning in to kiss her quickly.

“My, you are so protective,” Fleur smiled. Hermione smirked.

“Hey, better they deal with my temper than yours!” Hermione joked, “I think you may have shaved years off everyone’s lives during your pregnancy.”

“I don’t think I was _that_ temperamental during the pregnancy,” Fleur sniffed.

Hermione diplomatically kept quiet on that front, not wanting to tempt fate.

“Well… Shall we head off?” Hermione asked, changing the subject.

* * *

When Hermione and Fleur arrived home, Hermione was touched to find that Harry and Ron had decided to baby-proof Grimmauld Place.

Unfortunately for them, they had gone a little overboard.

Ron was cursing as he tried in vain to open a cupboard in the kitchen.

“Ron… You know Hugo is still too little to have to worry about him getting into cupboards, right?” Hermione said, raising an eyebrow at the frustrated redhead.

“Can never… argh… be too… arggghhh… prepared…” Ron struggled, trying to get to his snacks.

“You’ve really bounced back, Fleur,” Harry commented, sitting down at the table with a cup of tea, “I’d never guess that you’d even had a baby!”

Fleur smiled serenely, casting Hermione a knowing look. Hermione liked being in the loop with the Veela secrets, even if this one was a relatively minor one. It made her feel like she was a part of Fleur’s family.

Hermione finally took pity on Ron, reminding him of the Alohomora charm to help him get to his snacks. Hugo was beginning to fuss in Fleur’s arms.

“I think he’s hungry, babe,” Hermione commented.

Fleur nodded, swiping open her blouse with surprising ease. Hermione filed that particular detail to the back of her mind.

Harry politely averted his eyes as Fleur slipped a breast out to feed young Hugo. Hermione was proud as her son latched on immediately, feeding with eagerness. She was interrupted from watching her little family by a quiet choking noise beside her.

She noticed with disgust that Ron had purpled and was gaping at Fleur’s exposed breast. Hermione swatted him frantically.

“Ron! Stop-“ _whack!_ “looking—“ _whack!_ “at my girlfriend’s tits!” Hermione growled.

“Merlin!” Ron yelped, backing off, “Take it easy! It was just a quick glance!”

“You were _staring!_ ” Hermione exclaimed, “And drooling!”

“I was not!” Ron replied, affronted, though his ears had turned bright red.

Hermione made up her mind in that moment that as soon as they were able, Fleur and her needed to find their own place. It was no longer fitting to share her quarters with her two guy best friends. Not when she had a baby and was hoping to make things more serious with Fleur.

* * *

Hermione woke up.

Hugo was crying again.

She felt a nudge at her shoulder.

“It’s your turn,” Fleur told her, rolling over.

Hermione groaned.

She went over to little Hugo’s bassinet, picking him up and cuddling him. He kept wailing as Hermione jiggled him in her arms.

Desperate for sleep, Hermione sung him a little lullaby her parents had used to sing to her, still cuddling Hugo carefully. Eventually, Hugo’s crying stopped and he began to settle down.

Pleased, Hermione put him back in his bassinet and ambled tiredly back to bed.

“That was a sweet little song,” Fleur murmured, shuffling over to cuddle her.

Hermione put her arm around the nude blonde, smiling.

She felt very content, her sleeping son nearby and the beautiful Frenchwoman nestled in her arms. She started waking up a little more as Fleur drew slow circles on her chest with idle fingers.

“Fleur… If you don’t stop that… I’m going to be a little too frustrated to sleep,” Hermione commented, trying to keep her voice even. Her nipples were already stiffening under her singlet and she could feel her boxers dampening.

It was difficult having Fleur naked and pressed so close beside her.

“What is wrong with that?” Fleur asked in a sultry voice. Hermione felt her temperature spike.

“I just got Hugo down to sleep,” Hermione answered in a low voice, “We don’t want to wake him.”

“Silencing charm?” Fleur suggested.

Hermione was sorely tempted.

“We need to be able to hear him if he wakes again… Do you know how to do a one-way silencing charm so we can still hear outside our bubble?” Hermione asked.

“Please,” Fleur responded cockily.

Her already returned ego was turning Hermione on even more.

“Okay,” Hermione replied.

Fleur sat up, turning on a lamp beside their bed and casting a silencing charm around their bed. She looked at Hermione expectantly.

Hermione realized she still had her pajamas on, which were feeling very restrictive all of a sudden. She felt a slight shyness in baring her body for Fleur. She had done it a number of times over the past 9 months by now… But for some reason it felt more intimidating now Fleur had her devastating figure back.

“Please, mon amour,” Fleur purred, running a hand up Hermione’s arm.

_‘Fuck it,’_ Hermione immediately thought to herself, shedding her clothes eagerly. Fleur’s hungry gaze only served to encourage her further.

Hermione began to reach for the blonde when she halted.

“Er, as much as I love little Hugo,” Hermione said, “I really don’t want to give him a sibling so soon. Could you… Could you teach me the contraceptive charm?”

Fleur smiled broadly, nodding.

Hermione was a little miffed to discover it was an incredibly brief and simple incantation. But she supposed better to learn it late than never. Besides, accidentally getting Fleur pregnant had led Hermione to this new life… She certainly couldn’t complain about that.

Charm done, Fleur immediately pounced on Hermione.

Hermione let out a small gasp of surprise, unused to Fleur being so forward in bed. The naked Veela was wild, her hands everywhere and lips dropping sensual kisses that electrified Hermione’s skin.

“Fleur…” Hermione sighed as the blonde’s hips grinded up against her own. She was almost losing herself in ecstasy.

“Mmmn, like putty in my hands, non?” Fleur smirked, circling the shell of Hermione’s ear with a delicate tongue. The blonde’s cockiness was playing at Hermione’s arousal, teasing her and challenging her.

Feeling her natural competitiveness come alive, Hermione’s eyes snapped open again and she grabbed Fleur by her hips, flipping them roughly so Fleur was on her back on the bed, Hermione above her. Fleur’s eyes were wide with surprise, but Hermione could tell from the look in them that the blonde was beyond aroused.

Hermione lowered herself smoothly, bringing her body flush against Fleur’s. The blonde’s toned body trembled against her own, betraying her excitement. Hermione smirked against Fleur’s soft neck.

“You were saying?” Hermione teased.

“Mon amour,” Fleur whimpered, as Hermione dropped painfully soft kisses to her neck.

Hermione could feel her teeth beginning to ache again, but pushed it to the back of her mind. For now, she just wanted to drive Fleur wild.

Fleur’s hands were running down her shoulder blades, playing at the muscles of her back as they moved down her. Hermione loved the possessive air they had about them. Fleur wanted _her._ Wanted to be the only one that had her.

Hermione slipped a thigh between Fleur’s legs, smiling with approval at how slick her thigh became from Fleur’s wetness. She leant in and kissed Fleur deeply, her tongue exploring the depths of the blonde’s mouth.

Hermione broke the kiss, instead moving to kiss Fleur’s delicate throat, then her collarbones, then the centre of her chest. The Frenchwoman wriggled beneath her.

Hermione smirked, slowly taking one of Fleur’s hardened nipples into her mouth. She swirled her tongue around it before nipping it playfully. Fleur gasped and moaned as Hermione swirled her tongue on it once more.

She was taking her time, knowing it would be testing the blonde’s already pitiful patience.

“Hermione,” Fleur growled impatiently, “Come on and do it already…”

_‘There it is,’_ Hermione thought to herself triumphantly.

“Do what?” Hermione asked innocently, looking up from Fleur’s chest to meet the impatient Veela’s gaze.

“You know what I—“ Fleur was cut off immediately as Hermione unexpectedly slid her hand in to cup the blonde’s shaved sex.

Hermione grinned.

“Not so cocky now…” Hermione teased, moving her hand in the most minute of ways. Enough to create a teasing amount of friction, but not enough to give Fleur any relief.

Fleur let out a string of French expletives, writhing beneath Hermione.

“Cruel… Get on with it, godammit,” Fleur managed to get out, desperately trying to hold back her hips from riding Hermione’s hand in earnest. She had pride after all. Hermione could see the muscles of Fleur’s toned body jerking as she tried her best to withstand the teasing.

Hermione knew she was being a little mean, but it was beyond hot having the proud Veela at her mercy.

“Are you going to behave?” Hermione teased, loving the blush this produced on Fleur’s pretty face. She moved her hand ever so slightly to make her point, resulting in an outraged little groan from Fleur.

“No?” Hermione asked innocently, removing her hand entirely from Fleur’s sex. Fleur writhed beneath her, frustrated but still too proud to submit. Hermione loved this game between them.

Hermione slowly brought her fingers to her mouth. They had a light coating of Fleur’s wetness on, shimmering in the dim light of the lamp. Hermione locked eyes with Fleur and slowly licked her fingers clean. Fleur whimpered before finally exhaling shakily.

“Oui,” Fleur choked out.

“Yes, what?” Hermione teased. She moved her hand down and ran it slowly up the inside of Fleur’s toned thighs.

Fleur groaned, beyond frustrated.

“Yes… Yes, I’ll behave,” Fleur conceded.

“Good girl,” Hermione murmured, moving her hand back to cup Fleur’s sex, “Now no more rushing me… We have all night…”

Fleur looked outraged.

“Non… We only have until Hugo wakes again!” Fleur protested. Hermione removed her hand.

“What did I say about rushing me?” Hermione asked dangerously. Fleur immediately stopped her complaining.

Hermione smiled, gliding her fingers slowly through Fleur’s folds. She had to withhold her own moan at how good it felt.

Fleur let out a strangled moan, her hips jerking as Hermione circled her clit carefully. Hermione took her time, slowly, patiently, building up the tension further within the blonde. Her teeth ached more, but she wasn’t about to be distracted.

Finally, she slid two fingers within, pausing to appreciate the warm tightness of Fleur around her digits.

“Hermione… Please… This is unbearable…” Fleur whimpered. Hermione was entranced as the blonde further lost her inhibitions, tossing her head backwards. The muscles of her body were trembling beneath Hermione, further intoxicating her.

“Very well,” Hermione assented, sliding her fingers out slowly before slipping them back in, hard. Fleur let out a cry of pleasure that set the hairs on the back of Hermione’s neck on end. She had a sudden, desperate, need to bring Fleur to cry out her name.

She slid her fingers in and out aggressively, speeding up her rhythm as Fleur’s cries became more passionate. Her teeth were positively throbbing with pain now, but she couldn’t stop. She nestled her face into the soft skin of Fleur’s neck, feeling the blonde’s wild pulse against her lips.

Suddenly—alarmingly—in a move that flashed Hermione back to school-time pranks, Hermione felt her teeth elongating.

She paused her actions, looking up in apprehension. Her eyes met Fleur’s, now entirely silver. Fleur’s hair was similarly silvery.

“What… Why did you stop?” Fleur asked, agitated at having her pleasure so abruptly curtailed.

“Is something wrong with my teeth?” Hermione asked.

Fleur’s gaze dropped to her teeth and she smiled widely.

“Your canines… They’re long and sharp,” Fleur replied.

“What does that mean?” Hermione asked, although she already had a feeling. The discussions with Cassandra… The little comments Cassandra had made about how Hermione would understand creatures more in the future… It seemed that the last step of bonding involved a slight transformation on Hermione’s part.

“You know what it means,” Fleur replied, “Make your decision, amour,”

Hermione didn’t even need a split second to think about it, resuming her ministrations and thrusting into Fleur once more. Fleur cried out, tossing her head back again.

Her smooth and delicate neck was entirely exposed and Hermione felt her teeth ache again. She could feel it, instinctively, what she needed to do.

As Fleur arched her back in pleasure, Hermione dipped her head and sank her teeth in to the juncture where Fleur’s neck met her shoulder. Hermione had never quite imagined herself biting someone quite so hard, but it turned out to be one of the more pleasurable sensations in her life.

Fleur shook beneath her as she reached climax and Hermione, to her own surprise, felt herself suddenly climaxing too. It was the sweetest feeling, riding the high at the same time as Fleur. She felt her teeth retract back to normal as she finished. She lapped her tongue lazily over the bite mark on Fleur’s neck, fascinated as it healed before her very eyes. Remarkable.

She rolled herself off Fleur, taking the blonde into her arms. Fleur’s chest was heaving and her face was flushed.

“Welcome to the family, Hermione,” Fleur grinned.

“What does it all mean?” Hermione asked, thirsty for knowledge once more.

“You claimed me as your mate,” Fleur replied, her fingers tracing circles on Hermione’s scarred chest, “And took in the slightest part of Veela blood while doing it. We’re now bonded and you are part of the family in Veela culture. Unfortunately, you cannot speak of it to humans. As with most Veela culture, it is a secret carefully guarded.”

“Oh… Wow…” Hermione was rarely at a loss for words, but it was quite the stunning situation. 

Fleur smiled sweetly.

“I feel like we should do something to celebrate,” Fleur suggested. She raised her eyebrows in such a predatory way it made Hermione’s legs feel weak.

“I have a few ideas…” Hermione replied, loving the look her mate was giving her.

As if on some horrible cue, Hugo began wailing, piercing the tension between them.

“Merde,” Fleur cursed.

“I believe it’s your turn,” Hermione teased, smiling. She was a little frustrated at not getting some more playtime in with Fleur, but she was more than satisfied with what had already transpired between them that evening.


	24. Chapter 24

Hermione’s head nodded before snapping back up again. She’d almost dozed off that time.

Her head was resting heavily on one of her hands.

Life with a newborn was taking its toll on her since she had got back to work. Little Hugo was already the apple of Hermione’s eye, but Merlin, Hermione would give anything to get the little fella to sleep through just one night.

As much as she loathed to admit it, Hermione was incredibly competitive. She’d noticed immediately that Fleur seemed to be coping with the lack of sleep much better than her. Fleur was still working from home, taking well to research-based work. She had Hugo all day as well as at night and yet Hermione hadn’t caught _her_ dozing off once. She was half convinced that Fleur was just as competitive as her and merely hiding her doziness from her.

Hermione rubbed her eyes tiredly before crossing out the sentence she had just written.

She was working on a proposal. Something to well and truly kick off her new career. It would mean that humanoid magical creatures could not be barred from public spaces. The memory of what had happened to Cassandra at St Mungo’s still sat uncomfortably with her. It made her burn with anger at the injustice of it all.

The problem was it was taking her twice as long to draft it with the exhaustion weighing her down.

She had to get some good progress done today though. She’d already arranged to leave early so that she and Fleur could look at rentals to move into. As vigilant as they were with silencing charms, they were not infinite. There was no way that they could keep casting silencing charms enough to cover Hugo’s frequent crying.

  
Harry and Ron were beginning to feel the toll of living with a new baby… Something making it even more difficult for them with their desperate job hunts.

It would make life a lot easier for all involved once Fleur and Hermione could move into their own little home with Hugo.

It felt quite fast to be moving in with someone. Hermione had never lived with a partner before. But the fact it was Fleur—plus the fact they were mates—made it feel right. That and Hermione already longed to give little Hugo the most precious home she could manage.

Hermione yawned, blinking hard to try and wake up.

“Baby keeping you up?” Mrs Shrewsberry asked.

“Ah… A bit,” Hermione replied, self conscious at being caught dozing off.

“I was the same when my kids were born,” Ralph Buckle chimed in, “Don’t worry about it, Hermione. You get used to it.”

“So your wife stays at home?” Mrs Shrewsberry asked. Hermione frowned as she detected a hint of judgment in her voice.

“Er, she’s not my wife,” Hermione replied. She wasn’t sure how to refer to Fleur exactly. Before it had been simple—the woman she had got pregnant; then her girlfriend. But now they’d bonded, it was hard to explain. There was no formality of marriage, but somehow the connection between them felt even stronger than that.

“Oh,” Mrs Shrewsberry replied. Hermione wondered if she was homophobic. It would explain the edge to some of her comments.

“Fleur works from home these days,” Hermione elaborated, “She’s in the Curse Breaking department at Gringotts. Right now she’s focusing more on research.”

“That sounds really interesting!” Ralph said genuinely, “Research huh? So a woman after your own heart, Granger?”

Hermione quirked a smile. She hadn’t really thought about that. She supposed Fleur’s studious side was quite similar to her own.

“Yeah, I suppose she is,” Hermione smiled.

Suddenly she was even more excited to go find a place for them to live together.

* * *

Fleur met Hermione in the atrium, little Hugo in a pram.

Ever the fashionable one, Fleur was wearing high heels and a stunning dress. Her long hair cascaded down her shoulders. Hermione was stunned for a moment.

“Mon amour,” Fleur smiled coyly.

“You look… Wow,” Hermione sighed, allowing her eyes to roam down Fleur’s form and up again.

Fleur lit up, pleased with the reaction she had elicited from her mate. Hermione approached her, kissing her cheek chastely, before her attention immediately moved to their son.

“How’s mum’s favourite little boy?” Hermione greeted. A large grin had already sprawled across her face.

Hugo gurgled and kicked his little legs happily.

Hermione played with one of his feet idly. Hugo was beginning to show his heritage already. Big brown eyes from Hermione, platinum blonde hair from Fleur. Hermione could already tell his hair was going to end up in unruly curls like her own.

“He has been so naughty for his Maman today,” Fleur said with a playful pout, “Sleeping when I am on my breaks, then crying just when I am getting to the most difficult parts of my work.”

“Ohhh Hugo,” Hermione teasingly lectured, “You are proving quite troublesome for your Maman-- You’re going to give her wrinkles!”

Fleur gasped dramatically, causing Hermione to giggle.

“Don’t speak of such things!” Fleur said to Hermione.

“Never again, my sweet,” Hermione grinned, kissing Fleur.

She fell into step with Fleur as they headed out of the Ministry. She noticed eyes flicking to them. They always seemed to. At first it had bothered Hermione a little. She’d always been a little self-conscious of stares. But now she rather liked showing off Fleur and Hugo.

Hermione’s hand snaked around Fleur’s waist possessively. She had thought that once they had bonded, she might have felt some cooling off in her feelings for Fleur. But if anything, she was still just as intoxicated with Fleur as ever. She felt so protective of Fleur and little Hugo.

It was a short walk to the first place. It was in a very large apartment building, which Hermione didn’t like. But it was very modern, which Fleur liked. Hugo began to wail as soon as they got in the door for the viewing.

“I’m not sure he likes it, babe,” Hermione smiled, picking him up from the pram. She jiggled him in her arms as he fussed.

Fleur frowned at them petulantly, looking around the apartment’s fashionable décor.

Hugo began to calm, pulling at Hermione’s curls. 

“Ow, ow, no sweetie…” Hermione tried to remove his pudgy fists from her locks, looking around the apartment herself, “Fleur, do you think it is a little small?”

Fleur grumbled.

“Family sized places are always so tacky, Hermione,” Fleur groaned, “Besides, Hugo is so small! He hardly needs any room.”

“Fleur,” Hermione grinned, “I know you’re not going to skimp on practicality for Hugo.”

Fleur groaned, leaning against a sleek wall.

  
“Of course,” Fleur admitted, “Only the best for my little lion cub.”

Hermione smiled. Fleur had dressed Hugo in the onesie that was patterned with lions. 

It was far too early to be planning such things, according to Fleur, but Hermione secretly hoped Hugo would go to Hogwarts and become a Gryffindor like she had. It seemed like Fleur had at least decided to indulge Hermione’s dreams a little. Even if only to put a smile on Hermione’s face.

Hugo gurgled happily in Hermione’s arms.

Fleur sighed, her high heels clipping at the hardwood floor as she walked back over to Hermione and Hugo. She kissed Hugo on the forehead and Hermione on the lips before frowning.

“It really is too small,” Fleur sighed, “On to the next place?”

Hermione nodded, holding back the ‘I told you so’ on the tip of her tongue. Being in a relationship with a temperamental Veela had made her have to tone down on some of her more ‘know-it-all’ tendencies.

The next place was closer to what Hermione liked. It was a little rickety, but in an old style that really had charisma to it. It was further out of town, but not difficult for commuting.

Fleur frowned as soon as they walked up to it, stepping distastefully over a missing board on the deck.

“It’s huge, Fleur,” Hermione beamed, “Big enough if we decided to have more kids someday…”

“Hermione!” Fleur chided, making sure the property manager wasn’t in earshot, “I’ve only just got my figure back and you’re already trying to get me pregnant again!”

Hermione snorted.

“One, Cassandra got your figure back right away with that bloody brilliant fix-all Veela remedy,” Hermione scoffed, “And two, I said _someday._ ”

Fleur rolled her eyes.

“Well, still… I wouldn’t want to raise children here,” Fleur sniffed haughtily.

“What! Why not? It’s big and full of character!” Hermione exclaimed. She was still bouncing Hugo in her arms, who gurgled as if he agreed with his British mum.

“Drafty,” Fleur said, eying a cracked window, “Run down. It is far too high maintenance.”

“Some might say that I like high maintenance,” Hermione said, winking at Fleur. Fleur pouted, unimpressed.

“I don’t like it, Hermione,” Fleur whined, “It looks far too rickety, cold and damp.”

Hermione sighed, annoyed at Fleur’s high standards.

But once they got inside, she did—begrudgingly—see what Fleur meant. It seemed incredibly rundown. More than a fixer-upper. The landlord may as well just knock it to the ground.

Fleur, to her credit, tried not to look too smug as Hermione conceded.

The next two places were write offs too, much to Hermione’s distress. She was beginning to lose hope that they would be able to find a decent place to rent. Hugo was getting restless. It was dinnertime. Hermione was all set to call it a day when they finally came across a place one suburb over from Grimmauld Place.

Hermione immediately lit up at the sight of it. It was a small cottage with a sprawling lawn and a nice little tree in the backyard.

She looked over and was pleased to see that Fleur was looking similarly thrilled.

“Plenty of room to play with Hugo outside,” Hermione suggested, looking hopefully at Fleur.

“Plenty of room to plant flowers,” Fleur smiled back.

There was an adorable little master bedroom that looked out on the back garden and apple tree. It had a double wardrobe (although Hermione rather suspected she would have to charm it to fit all of Fleur’s clothes in, anyway).

There was a small bedroom that would be perfect for Hugo and another small room that Fleur could use as a home office (or, Hermione thought, for a future child). The rest of the cottage was open plan; living, dining and kitchen all in the same room.

As the property manager shuffled papers on the kitchen countertop, Fleur stepped closely to Hermione.

  
“Hermione, I know it’s a little rushed since we only just saw it… But could we just sign for it now? It is perfect!” Fleur asked. She batted her eyelashes a little, her slender fingers playing at Hermione’s wrist.

As weak as Hermione was for a forward and flirty Fleur, she didn’t need any convincing. She was already in love with the small cottage.

“What do you think, Hugo?” Hermione smiled, jiggling Hugo in her arms. The little curly-haired blonde gurgled, fisting his puffy hands and kicking his chubby legs. Hermione felt her heart melt as the little brown eyes looked up at her own.

“I think that is a yes?” Fleur asked, arching an eyebrow.

“It’s a yes,” Hermione confirmed.

Fleur beamed, practically jumping up and down. Hermione smiled widely. Sometimes it was almost as if she had two children. But she loved it whenever she could make the reserved blonde act carefree.

* * *

The day that Hermione and Fleur moved into their cottage, Hermione wondered what it would mean. Surely Fleur would want to do something to celebrate their new place. That meant inviting their friends around.

Hermione had said nothing to Fleur about her threats to Bill to fall in line. Bill had been keeping a respectable distance since then, only coming to see Hugo twice—and only when accompanied by a bunch of other Weasleys. It was only a matter of time until Fleur would want to hang out with Bill one on one. Hermione wondered if Bill would pull his head in, or if he would continue keeping a wary distance.

Sure enough, as Hermione unpacked the last of their boxes, Fleur came to talk to her.

The blonde had been decorating their room happily. It was quite adorable how excited Fleur had been about an entire cottage to style.

“Hugo is down for a nap,” Fleur informed Hermione, brushing strands of platinum blonde off her face. She looked so sweet in the afternoon light shining through the windows.

“Poor little champ,” Hermione smiled, “So much excitement in one day!”

“He is cuddling his stuffed lion,” Fleur said, an amused smile on her face, “It is quickly becoming his favourite toy. We will have to thank Ron and Harry for that gift.”

“Our little lion,” Hermione smiled, her heart swelling.

“I was thinking…” Fleur said, looking down with a slight smile, “We should do something to celebrate moving in.”

This is what Hermione had been expecting. A housewarming party or dinner. She sighed heavily. She would just have to deal with Bill.

“Yes? What’s on your mind?” Hermione asked.

She looked at her mate, looking so happy with their new surrounds.

Fleur was dressed for moving day, wearing some short torn jean shorts, a white tee tucked in, and some sneakers. She had a little bit of dust on her clothes from tidying.

Hermione, ever the chivalrous one, had insisted on moving all the boxes inside and unpacking them. She’d got so overheated she’d stripped down to a sports bra and her briefs. She wiped her forehead as Fleur bit her lip, taking her time with what she was going to say.

“I was thinking we could, ah, christen the cottage,” Fleur said, a light blush rising in her cheeks, “Since Hugo is asleep…”

Hermione’s eyebrows raised and her stomach flipped pleasantly.

She didn’t need further invitation. She’d been thinking all day that Fleur had been looking rather delectable in her shorts, showing her long expanse of toned legs.

Hermione pounced, grabbing Fleur roughly and pushing her up against the kitchen counter. Fleur gasped, leaning in to kiss Hermione’s neck.

“Mmn, you are quite the lioness yourself, mon amour,” Fleur purred. Hermione ran her hands over Fleur’s thighs and up her toned stomach. She let her hands wander freely, appreciating the goddess before her. She pulled up Fleur’s tee, tossing it across the kitchen.

  
Fleur smiled coyly, flipping their positions so Hermione was the one pinned against the counter. Hermione usually took the dominant role between them sexually, but she appreciated the change in pace. Besides, she was sure it would only be a matter of time before she would be topping Fleur once more.

Hermione’s eyes drifted down to Fleur’s chest. She was wearing a bra with so little fabric, and such transparent fabric, it almost couldn’t be classed as clothing. Hermione wondered if she was wearing matching panties. She reached eagerly for the fly of Fleur’s shorts, only to have her hands swatted away by manicured hands.

Her eyes locked with deep blue, flecked with silver. Fleur smirked, shaking her head. Hermione made a little noise of outrage, unused to Fleur withholding from her.

“Lose the sports bra and I’ll consider it,” Fleur said with a playful smile.

Hermione made a little huff, frustrated. She needed to see more of Fleur, immediately.

Frowning, Hermione pulled her sports bra off and tossed it aside, reaching eagerly for Fleur’s shorts. This time Fleur didn’t swat away her hands, allowing her to undo them and pull them off her. Once the shorts were taken care of, Hermione let her hands wander once more. She was delighted to find there was no more to the panties than there was to the bra, grabbing Fleur’s ass.

Fleur smirked, moving to kiss at Hermione’s neck, nipping lightly.

“Gods, Fleur,” Hermione groaned.

Fleur ran her hands down Hermione’s chest, squeezing her breasts appreciatively. Hermione lost it, loving the way that Fleur worshipped her body. Plump lips moved along Hermione’s collarbone, making the brunette’s knees weak with each nip and kiss. Silky blonde hair brushed against Hermione’s skin as the Frenchwoman pressed herself harder against the Gryffindor.

Hermione kept her hands firmly on Fleur’s backside as the blonde’s hips began to work, grinding up against the brunette. A groan escaped Hermione’s neck as she struggled with her spiking arousal.

It was a sweet kind of torture having Fleur caress her and press up against her in such a way. Especially when the blonde was wearing so little. Hermione needed relief soon. 

Apparently sensing her mate’s pressing needs, Fleur slipped a hand down the front of Hermione’s briefs.

Hermione quivered as Fleur’s fingers slid through her slick folds, beginning to work. This was sublime. Everything Hermione had ever wanted, but never realized until she had it. Her son sleeping soundly in the next room. Fleur, mated to her, looking at her with adoration.

Hermione’s knees gave way and she planted her hands behind her on the counter, holding herself up.

She was a sucker for Fleur Delacour. She always would be. The woman brought her to her knees with a single smile. Her touch was unlike anything Hermione had ever experienced.

Hermione reached forward, hooking Fleur behind the next and pulling her into a passionate kiss. Fleur’s fingers sped up with their caresses.

Their kiss broke as Hermione’s pleasure mounted. She whimpered and buried her face into Fleur’s soft neck.

Fleur began murmuring to her softly in French. Hermione couldn’t understand much of what she said, but with the musical quality of her voice, and her slender hand down the front of her briefs, Hermione found herself pushed over the edge. She came with a shudder, crying Fleur’s name into the blonde’s neck.

Panting, Hermione leaned back again, locking eyes with Fleur.

Her deep sapphire eyes were stormy with passion, her pupils dilated. She was biting her plump bottom lip, looking at Hermione with wildness.

Her hand was still nestled down the front of Hermione’s pants.

“Was that okay?” Fleur asked, a hint of self-consciousness evident in her voice.

“Amazing,” Hermione sighed, “I rather think your hand belongs down there.”

Fleur smirked, removing her hand.

“Bon,” Fleur said airily, flipping her hair as she turned around. Hermione gazed at the shimmering blonde mane cascading down Fleur’s back. Fleur walked away from her, heading back towards the master room.

Hermione followed her slowly, enthralled.

Fleur glided into the room, sitting down on the edge of the bed and crossing her legs. Fleur was so regal as she sat there. Hermione ached for her mate. She stepped slowly towards Fleur, hunger for her increasing with each step.

“You’re still awfully clothed, Fleur,” Hermione said, stepping ever closer to the blonde.

Fleur smiled serenely, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

“I could say the same about you, mon petit lionne,” Fleur said, her voice sultry.

Hermione felt her knees growing weak again. The way Fleur was looking at her and the tone in her voice was driving her crazy. She had to take Fleur. Now.

Hermione slowly took her briefs off, making sure to take her time. She knew the anticipation would just work Fleur up further. She was impatient to a fault—something Hermione thoroughly enjoyed using to her advantage in the bedroom.

She looked up and, sure enough, Fleur was sitting naked on the end of the bed. She pouted.

“Hermione, you are taking so long,” Fleur grumbled, crossing her legs tightly.

Hermione smirked. She turned and walked to the wardrobe, intentionally walking slowly.

“Wrong direction, Hermione,” Fleur said, testiness creeping into her voice.

“Not necessarily,” Hermione said evenly, opening the wardrobe and taking out a small box, “I packed something extra for the new place.”

“Something… What is it?” Fleur asked, standing up and walking towards Hermione. Hermione tried not to giggle. Fleur was such a painfully curious creature.

“Non, non, non, mon amour,” Hermione teased Fleur in French. She turned around, hiding the box behind her back momentarily, “I thought I was clear about you needing to behave.”

“But… _Hermione!_ ” Fleur exclaimed, outraged. She seemed beyond frustrated, the pink capped nipples of her breasts hard and pupils blown.

“Fleur…” Hermione chided lightly, “Back on the bed, baby.”

Fleur, looking for a moment like she might explode with frustration, stomped back to the bed and sat down.

Hermione turned around to hide her smirk. She opened the box slowly. She’d picked it up on a particularly daring day of shopping.

She’d gone out with Amelie and Ginny, who were very much in the honeymoon period of their relationship. They’d dragged her along to an adult store, looking for some new toys for their incredibly active sex-life. While Hermione had been bored out of her mind waiting for the lovebirds to select the numerous items she wanted, she had found something that had caught her eye.

Hermione opened the box, taking out the purple strap-on inside. She’d heard of them from Muggle media, of course. But in the wizarding world, they were apparently even more fun. According to the instructions that had come with the toy, when she wore it, she would be able to feel every sensation as if it were an extension of herself.

Hermione was looking forward to trying it out with Fleur.

She slipped the straps over herself, fastening the toy carefully.

“Hermione, if you don’t come here soon, I’m going to take matters into my own hands,” Fleur whined impatiently.

Hermione turned around slowly, a little cautious of what Fleur’s reaction would be. The blonde’s eyes widened as she took in the toy. For a horrible moment, Hermione wondered if it had been a gamble that hadn’t paid off. But then a slow smile grew on Fleur’s face.

Hermione slowly walked back towards Fleur, watching the blonde stare at her, almost as if hypnotized. As Hermione finally got to the edge of the bed, Fleur couldn’t take it anymore, standing up and pulling Hermione into a passionate kiss.

Hermione loved the feeling of Fleur pushing her tongue desperately into her mouth, but still, broke the kiss. She grabbed Fleur by the hips and threw her onto the bed. Fleur landed on her back with a gasp, propping herself up on her elbows to look at Hermione with interest.

Hermione crawled up the bed slowly. As she slowly moved up Fleur’s body, she dropped stray kisses. One to a smooth thigh, one to a hip, one to the tight abs that trembled with anticipation. Hermione finally moved to kiss Fleur’s neck as her body covered the blonde’s. She kissed the small scar where she had bonded with Fleur, right at the juncture of Fleur’s neck and shoulder. Fleur’s hips jerked beneath her.

Hermione could already feel the magic working in the toy. It was brushing the inside of Fleur’s thighs and Hermione could feel it like her clit was being brushed by Fleur’s soft skin.

“Hermione, don’t tease,” Fleur groaned restlessly.

Hermione, for once, decided not to drag out her teasing of Fleur. She was interested in trying out the new toy further. She used her knee to part Fleur’s smooth thighs. She reached down and carefully guided the toy to her goal. Hermione let out a groan as she felt the sensation of pressing against Fleur’s wetness. The magic worked. Fleur’s back arched as Hermione pushed the head of the toy phallus inside her. Hermione’s eyes almost rolled back in her head at the sensation. She made a mental note to look up whatever blessed charm they used on adult toys.

“Gods, Fleur,” Hermione uttered in a strained voice, slowly slipping the rest of the strap-on inside Fleur.

Her jaw fell open, muscles quivering. The sensation of Fleur’s tight, warm, wetness around the toy was transferring to Hermione impeccably. It really felt like it was an extension of Hermione. She let out a choked moan.

Hermione’s eyes locked with Fleur’s as she slowly edged it out again. Fleur’s hands made their way up Hermione’s toned and scarred back. They came to a rest at Hermione’s shoulder blades just as Hermione thrusted back in. Hermione felt Fleur’s perfect manicure dig into her skin.

“H-H-Hermione,” Fleur panted.

Hermione kissed at the mating scar again, beginning to move her hips with rhythm. Fleur let out a cry of pleasure, parting her legs even wider to allow Hermione better access. Hermione pumped her hips with vigour, getting a headrush from the sensation.

Fleur’s legs wrapped around her as Hermione continued to thrust. She had thought the few different ways she had shagged Fleur already had been exquisite, but this was something else. Her abs ached as she continued to pump into Fleur, the pleasure willing her on.

Fleur dragged her nails down Hermione’s shoulders, whimpering.

“Gods, you’re so amazing,” Hermione growled into her ear.

She felt Fleur’s walls begin to tighten around the toy.

“N-no… Too soon…” Hermione grunted, humping the blonde in earnest.

“I can’t help it,” Fleur groaned, “It feels so good… Oh, Hermione!”

Fleur shuddered, coming undone under Hermione. Hermione panted, riding Fleur through every last moment of her orgasm. When Fleur finally relaxed, Hermione withdrew from her, sitting back on her haunches.

She gazed at Fleur, lying splayed in front of her and basking in the glow of her climax. Hermione was throbbing with desire now, aching to take the blonde again. She needed relief again.

“Are you okay?” Fleur panted, sitting up.

“Y-yeah,” Hermione managed, “Just… Very interested in a second round.”

“I’m sorry I came so soon,” Fleur smiled, “If it makes you feel better… We can do whatever you want to finish you off.”

Hermione growled needily, flipping Fleur onto her stomach on the bed. Fleur let out a small murmur of surprise, then pleasure as Hermione grabbed her by the hips and pulled her onto her hands and knees. Hermione raised herself up, pressing her pelvis against Fleur’s backside. It felt amazing. The toy was pressing against Fleur’s cheeks and Hermione was holding her firmly in place.

“I… I want you, Fleur,” Hermione said hoarsely, “I want you really badly.”

“Then take me, my lion,” Fleur replied, “Take me like I’m yours.”

“Fuck,” Hermione groaned, her arousal clouding everything.

She took the toy in her hand, still well lubricated from the first round with Fleur. Hermione considered a brief conversation she had had with Fleur late one night about things they would be interested in trying in bed. Letting her own reservations go, Hermione guided the toy above her usual goal, and pressed it against Fleur’s tight asshole.

“Hermione,” Fleur gasped, a mix of surprise and arousal in her voice.

“Is… Is it okay if I…?” Hermione asked, a little worried she was crossing a line.

“Oui,” Fleur replied.

Hermione grinned, pushing the toy against Fleur’s entrance. She let out a groan as she slowly worked it inside Fleur. This time her eyes really did roll back in her head at the tightness.

“Does that feel… Okay?” Hermione asked between gasps. She really didn’t want to stop, but had to check if it was still okay for Fleur.

“Oui,” Fleur gasped, “I feel so full,”

Appeased, Hermione began to thrust, letting out a cry of pleasure. It felt amazing. She planted a palm on Fleur’s back, the other one holding her tightly by the hip. Hermione was rallied on by the slap of her pelvis against Fleur, feeling like she was dangerously close to losing her mind.

“Hermione!” Fleur moaned, pushing back into Hermione.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Hermione groaned, spanking Fleur.

She was thrusting desperately fast now, the muscles across her body twitching as she got closer and closer.

She hadn’t been going for long, but she couldn’t hold it any longer, uttering Fleur’s name as she shuddered. She slumped against Fleur’s back as she finished, her breasts flush against Fleur’s shoulder blades.

She withdrew from Fleur slowly, twitching at the sensation as she slipped the toy out.

“Merlin, I need to find out what the spell is they use on these,” Hermione sighed, undoing the straps and letting the toy fall to the bed.

Fleur rolled onto her back, her chest heaving as she caught her breath. Hermione threw herself back on the bed beside the blonde, staring up at the ceiling.

“I’ve never let anyone do me like that before,” Fleur confessed, “But it felt good.”

“That felt incredible,” Hermione sighed, “I’m aching in muscles I don’t usually ache in, but it was definitely worth it.”

A loud wail rang out from Hugo’s room and Hermione groaned. It was her turn.

She reluctantly got up from the bed, leaving her naked mate on the bed. Fleur shot her a grateful smile.

Hermione quickly pulled on some underwear and a singlet, padding out the door and into Hugo’s room.

The little blonde was kicking his legs and waving his fists, his face scrunched up with the effort of screeching.

“What’s wrong, darling?” Hermione asked, leaning over and scooping the baby up. She cuddled and jiggled Hugo but he kept wailing. She supposed he must be due for a feeding.

Hermione carried the loud little baby to the kitchen area, fishing out and warming a bottle for Hugo.

Settling into an armchair, Hermione began to feed Hugo. He latched on straight away, drinking hungrily.

“Oh, you are a hungry little boy!” Hermione cooed, smiling down at Hugo.

“He’s going to grow up big and strong with an appetite like that,” Fleur said, gliding into the room. She had put her lingerie back on and carelessly thrown a silk robe over herself, not bothering to tie it up.

Fleur sat down on the sofa, picking up a large book from the floor and setting in to read it. Hermione was unsure she had ever seen a more alluring sight.

“Are you already doing more work?” Hermione asked, “You took the day off!”

“I have a little side project I’m working on in my spare time,” Fleur said dismissively. She crossed her legs, flipping through the pages.

Hermione was curious, opening her mouth to ask. But then Fleur looked up from her book.

“Hermione, I was thinking we could have a low-key housewarming and invite some of our friends,” Fleur said, smiling sweetly.

Hermione sighed. She had seen this coming.

“Sure…” Hermione replied reluctantly, “Who were you thinking of inviting?”

“Well… Our friends,” Fleur replied, looking like she was very much stating the obvious.

“Right,” Hermione nodded, “Well… Okay then,”

“Oh, don’t sound so unenthused,” Fleur chided, shutting her book, “We will have a good time! We can show off how great our place looks!”

“I’m not unenthused…” Hermione lied.

Fleur snorted.

“Hermione! We will invite Harry, Ron and Ginny! You will end up enjoying yourself, I’m sure,” Fleur insisted.

“Okay, okay,” Hermione backed down.

“Magnifique!” Fleur replied, “Now… I have some more work to do on this little project, but then I’ll get to planning the house-warming.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes suspiciously, opening her mouth to ask about the project again.

“And non, I will not tell you what it is,” Fleur said, getting up and walking out of the room, book in hand.

Hermione sighed, looking down at Hugo. He was gurgling happily now.

“She’s a mysterious one, your Maman,” Hermione told Hugo, reaching down and tapping his little nose softly.

Hugo wiggled his legs in response.


	25. Chapter 25

Hermione padded into the kitchen, following a curious smell.

She had just put Hugo down to bed again when she noticed an aroma coming from the living areas. It was a little early for Fleur to be making dinner, which confused the brunette. On top of that, it didn’t exactly smell good.

Hermione bit her lip, already trying to concoct something diplomatic to say to Fleur to spare her feelings (and temper) about the terrible smelling food.

She halted as she walked in.

Fleur looked extremely frazzled, she had her phone on speaker on the countertop and was speaking in French rapidly. The countertop was littered with what looked like the contents of a school Potions kit plus some of the plants from outside. Fleur had a cauldron out and was stirring it intermittently.

She was still wearing her robe over her lingerie, but had tied her hair up into a loose bun, wiping strands of her hair away from her forehead distractedly.

“Erm, is everything okay?” Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow.

Fleur swore and looked up at Hermione. She rattled off something else in French before hanging up her phone.

“Was that Cassandra on the line?” Hermione asked, further confused. She _knew_ she should have learned French, “I thought you were busy working on your project.”

“I was,” Fleur replied, “But then I remembered something slipped both our minds earlier.”

“It did?” Hermione asked. She stepped into the kitchen area and peered into the cauldron. It was full of a green and sludgy looking paste. Hermione really hoped that Fleur wasn’t about to insist she have some.

Fleur whipped around to face Hermione, looking at her with disbelief.

“The issue of _not_ wanting to give Hugo a sibling?” Fleur reminded Hermione. Hermione’s jaw dropped.

“Fuck!” Hermione yelped, “Er, sorry… I guess a lifetime of not thinking I could get women pregnant is really taking a while to forget. Heh, would it even work if I used… You know… A toy?”

“I don’t know, but I _don’t_ want to find out,” Fleur snapped, turning back to the cauldron, “Grandmere has helped me with this potion that should stop any potential pregnancy from taking.”

Hermione was relieved that she wasn’t the one that would have to eat the putrid looking paste, but didn’t say that aloud to Fleur.

“So, kind of a Veela morning after pill, huh?” Hermione joked.

Fleur shot her a withering look.

“It isn’t funny, Hermione,” Fleur replied, “Hugo is still so young. I’m not ready to be pregnant again yet.”

“You know, if I’d been able to track you down earlier after the first mistake, you might have been able to make this remedy then… Do you regret that?” Hermione asked, watching as Fleur dipped a spoon tentatively into the cauldron.

Fleur put it down for a moment, turning to Hermione.

“I don’t regret having Hugo at all,” Fleur answered honestly, “He is such a special little boy! Plus, the pregnancy is what brought us together.”

She kissed Hermione quickly, before grabbing the spoon and swallowing the paste with a wince.

Hermione grimaced.

“That didn’t look like it tasted very good,” Hermione said.

  
Fleur shook her head, her face crinkling with disgust.

“It really did not,” Fleur replied, “But I suppose it is a lesson for me not to be so careless with contraception. Something about you just makes every piece of reason leave my mind.”

Hermione was stunned. Fleur didn’t usually share such romantic notions with her.

“I do?” Hermione asked.

Fleur blushed slightly.

“Ah, I should get back to my project,” Fleur replied awkwardly, attempting to sidle away. Hermione caught her around the waist.

“You know… It might not be the right time now, but I would really like to have more children with you in the future,” Hermione said. Fleur smiled warmly.

“You would?” Fleur asked. She looked so vulnerable in Hermione’s arms.

Hermione thought about how far her and Fleur had come. There was a time when they never would have brought themselves to discuss such things. Yet they had such a way to go. While they called each other ‘love’ and ‘amour’ as pet names frequently, neither had worked up the courage to say that they actually loved each other. Well, Hermione _hoped_ Fleur loved her back.

Hermione wanted her Gryffindor bravery to prevail so she could just say the words to Fleur. The timing now would be perfect.

“I…”

Hermione felt like her stomach was trying to wrench its way out of her body. She felt like she was going to throw up. Why was saying three simple words so difficult?

“I…”

Fleur’s face looked curious and – if Hermione wasn’t imagining it—maybe a little hopeful.

“I… Ah… Wouldn’t think you could get pregnant from the type of shagging we just did,” Hermione blurted in a panic. As soon as the words left her mouth, she inwardly face-palmed.

Fleur’s eyes narrowed and she looked decidedly unimpressed.

“Really funny,” Fleur shot back at her, annoyed, “Keep it up and I won’t let you do it _any_ way with me again.”

She pulled herself out of Hermione’s arms and began to glide across the room.

“Fleur—Sorry, that was stupid—“ Hermione attempted to remedy the situation.

Fleur whirled around, eyes flashing with silver.

“And since you’re such a wise guy today, you can clean up the mess in the kitchen!” Fleur snapped.

Hermione groaned, turning to look at the sludgy mess in the cauldron and the wild littering of ingredients around the kitchen.

Later that evening, after a delicious meal over quite a frosty dinner table, Hermione changed Hugo while Fleur took a long shower.

“Why can’t I just tell your Maman that I love her?” Hermione asked Hugo.

Hugo looked up at Hermione with his big brown eyes, babbling happily before kicking his little legs.

Hermione smiled at her little son.

“I always seem to say the wrong thing to her when I’m under pressure,” Hermione told Hugo, changing him into his little onesie with printed lions on it.

Hugo gurgled, kicking some more.

“Yeah, it’s easy to talk to you, isn’t it sweetie?” Hermione smiled, settling him in, “But maybe when you’re older you’ll intimidate people that like you as much as your Maman does.”

Hugo yawned, wriggling less.

“That’s right, honey,” Hermione cooed, “You get some sleep. You need your energy to grow up and be a big strong boy.”

Hugo yawned again, his eyes slowly shutting.

“Goodnight my sweet baby boy,” Hermione murmured, padding out of the room softly.

When she got back to the master bedroom, Fleur was back from her shower, standing by a mirror finishing her lengthy skin routine. She was nude, her long platinum-blonde hair damp and loose down her back.

Hermione’s eyes trailed down Fleur’s form; her slim waist, the dimples at the base of her back. They came to rest on Fleur’s shapely backside.

“Don’t get any ideas,” Fleur warned, putting the lid of her moisturizer back on.

Hermione sighed. Fleur had a sixth sense when it came to people checking her out.

“Fleur, I’m sorry about before,” Hermione started.

Fleur turned around, raising a hand to hush Hermione.

  
“I don’t want to get into an argument before bed,” Fleur replied, “I know you accidentally said something worse than what you intended… But it still annoyed me. I guess I was just hoping you were going to say something else.”

“I’m sorry,” Hermione said softly, not wanting to push the issue.

Fleur shrugged before climbing into bed and switching off the lamp.

Hermione went to the bathroom and brushed her teeth before hopping into the shower herself.

She could practically hear what her friends’ advice would be: stop overthinking it. But it was easier said than done.

The shower water beat down on Hermione’s tense shoulders, relaxing her somewhat. She just had to get it together the next time the moment was right.

By the time Hermione had finished up her shower and got back to the master bedroom to change into her pajamas, Fleur’s eyes were shut and she was curled up on her side. Hermione’s heart ached and she climbed into the bed behind Fleur, taking her in her arms and spooning her.

* * *

Hermione had felt a renewed focus at work, driven by her need to protect Fleur and Hugo. She had finally finished her proposal and circulated it around the office.

Ralph Buckle had already approached her and voiced his support for the full review of restrictions on humanoid magical creatures. But Hermione was still waiting to hear from her other colleagues. She’d need their support to push it forward.

Mrs Shrewsberry came in, sitting down at a desk near Hermione. Her beige perm was looking stiffer than ever and she had a distasteful look on her face.

“Hermione,” Mrs Shrewsberry sighed, “I read your proposal… And I can’t help but fear you are a little biased.”

“Biased?” Hermione asked, frowning.

“Well, I heard your Fleur is a _Veela_ ,” Mrs Shrewsberry responded in a hushed and scandalized tone. Hermione narrowed her eyes.

“Only part,” Hermione replied tersely, “I hope you didn’t find that out from the Magical Creatures registers. You know you aren’t supposed to be looking at those for personal reasons.”

When Hermione was done in this department, there would be no more arduous paperwork and registers of part-creatures. Still, she had a way to go before that would be reality.

“It doesn’t matter how I found out,” Mrs Shrewsberry sniffed, “I just think you are a little clouded in your judgment. Veela can be quite dangerous, you know. That is the whole reason those restrictions on hospitals and other public places exist.”

“Those restrictions are outdated,” Hermione replied, her temper flaring, “Most of the rules around part-creatures and humanoid creatures were written before the time of Newt Scamander. Back then they could barely tell a dragon apart from a humanoid creature like a Veela or a Werewolf!”

“Even Newt Scamander noted their high danger level,” Mrs Shrewsberry retorted.

“Yes—in the right circumstances!” Hermione argued back, getting even angrier, “Nobody is saying a Veela should waltz into a hospital while transformed or a Werewolf should visit a playground while transformed! You are simply casting a wide net to further disenfranchise these people! Do I even need to point out how dangerous a wizard with a wand is in the right circumstances?”

Mrs Shrewsberry frowned, her wrinkled face contorting awfully.

As if on cue, the two office doors opened and Mr Lanolin and Harald Lemnos entered, each clutching a copy of Hermione’s proposal. Hermione braced herself for more criticism.

“Hermione…” Mr Lanolin began.

“This is exactly the kind of approach we hired you to bring in!” Lemnos praised, beaming at her, “I knew bringing in some fresh blood would point us in the right direction.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Mr Lanolin agreed, “You raise incredibly good points. A lot of these regulations are totally outdated and have never been reviewed!”

Hermione let out a sigh of relief.

“I’ve already run it up the flagpole,” Lemnos told her, “They haven’t made an official decision yet… But I can share between our team that it looks like we will be doing a full overhaul of these policies to create a fairer framework for our Creature and Part-Creature public.”

Hermione grinned, ecstatic. She couldn’t wait to tell Fleur the news.

It was icing on the cake that Mrs Shrewsberry looked entirely put out by it.

* * *

Hermione had a spring in her step as she headed home that evening. It was the evening of their housewarming, so Hermione decided she would wait until everyone had left to tell Fleur about her victory at work.

She tossed Floo in one of the Ministry fireplaces, stepping out into the living area at the cottage.

Fleur swept over to her immediately, kissing her lightly on the lips.

“Salut, my lion,” Fleur greeted, “I have laid out some clothes for you for tonight. I’ve just about finished making some food for our guests.”

“Laid out some clothes for me!” Hermione exclaimed, surprised.

Fleur gave her a coy smile.

“Just something I think you would look _very_ dashing in,” Fleur assured, “Nothing too different to what you usually wear.”

“Okay,” Hermione replied.

Fleur was wearing an apron over jeans and a tee, whisking back into the kitchen to attend to her food.

“I dropped Hugo off with Mr and Mrs Weasley,” Fleur called out to Hermione as the brunette headed to their room, “We pick him up first thing tomorrow morning.”

Hermione stepped into their room, noting the clothes laid out on the bed for her. A form fitting tailored shirt, a pair of tight tailored suit pants, some heeled black leather boots. Hermione smiled, Fleur hadn’t lied about picking something that was in her comfort zone.

She changed into the clothes, noting that Fleur must be very excited to show off their house given the effort she was going to.

Fleur herself entered the room, stripping her tee off before pulling her jeans off. Hermione’s jaw slackened at the sight of her beautiful girlfriend standing in her lingerie. Her hands paused on her shirt, just about to button it up.

“How did I get so lucky…” Hermione muttered, not even realizing she was speaking out loud.

Fleur turned to her and flashed a smile, before stepping up to Hermione. She slipped her hands inside Hermione’s shirt and around her back, her fingers playing at the tense muscles of Hermione’s lower back.

“Thank you for doing this for me,” Fleur said softly, leaning in and brushing her lips against Hermione’s.

Hermione hummed contentedly, bringing her arms tightly around her girlfriend. As her hands ran down Fleur’s fine form, Hermione felt her heart rate speed up. Her hands came to rest snugly on Fleur’s ass as she deepened the kiss.

Feeling Fleur’s soft tongue against her own, she lost control, pushing the blonde up against a nearby wall.

Fleur whimpered into the kiss, her nails softly raking down Hermione’s back.

Hermione growled, wanting to take Fleur right then and there. She pressed harder against Fleur, her kiss getting more needful.

Fleur broke the kiss with a gasp, pushing Hermione softly off her.

Hermione panted, frustrated, her honey flecked brown eyes locking with Fleur’s gaze. Fleur’s pupils were wide and the deep blue of her iris was flecked with silver again.

“If we start now… We won’t be able to stop. We would risk being caught in the middle of things as our guests arrive,” Fleur explained.

Hermione bit her lip, wanting Fleur badly, but nodded. The last thing she wanted was to have Harry and Ron walk in on her taking Fleur on all fours.

Reluctantly, she sighed and buttoned up her shirt, trying to take her mind off sex. She’d never had this problem at Hogwarts. It was probably for the best… Sex was far too distracting. She never would have completed her OWLs.

Fleur slipped a svelte dress on before finding a pair of high heels and getting them on.

No sooner had she got her clothes on, when there was a knock at the door. Hermione went to answer it, leaving Fleur to fuss with her long mane of hair.

At the door was Harry, Ron and Luna. Hermione noticed that Luna and Harry were standing awfully close to one another. It appeared their one-night stand was turning into something more serious.

Ron produced a bottle of wine from behind his back, handing it to Hermione.

“It’s a nice one, I promise,” Ron said with a lop-sided grin, “ _These two_ just wanted to get you a six pack of butterbeer.”

“I would have been happy with that,” Hermione chuckled, ushering the group inside. She was pleasantly surprised by Ron’s growing interest in food and beverages.

“This place is very nice,” Luna commented dreamily, looking around the cottage.

“I can tell Fleur was in charge of re-decorating,” Harry smiled, noting the number of artfully placed vases and throw-pillows.

“She was,” Hermione said, grinning happily, “So how is the job hunt going?”

Ron shrugged.

“The Ministry Auror department are having another round of recruiting,” Ron replied, “I reckon this time we’ll get it!”

There was another knock at the door and Hermione went to answer it.

This time it was Ginny and Amelie. They still appeared quite loved-up, holding hands tightly. Hermione couldn’t be happier for her friends.

Amelie looked a little concerned.

“Is Fleur… Is she okay with me now?” Amelie asked. Hermione nodded.

“Yeah, we’re past that now,” Hermione replied, ushering them both in. They’d barely got in the door when there was another knock.

This time it was Bill. Hermione frowned a little.

Bill was dressed impeccably, a tidy shirt tucked into some blue suit pants. His hair was tied up into a bun and he was wearing his fang earring again.

“Hermione,” Bill greeted neutrally.

“Bill,” Hermione replied, stepping aside to let him in.

A small crowd of people arrived at the door. Hermione recognized them as being some of Fleur’s French friends, Sophie amongst them.

Sophie came forward and threw her arms around Hermione, kissing her on each cheek.

“Hermione! How are you?” Sophie greeted, “It has been far too long!”

“Hi Sophie! I’m well,” Hermione responded politely, “It has been quite full on since little Hugo arrived, but things are going really well!”

“I’m so glad to hear,” Sophie replied, flipping her silvery blonde hair over her shoulder, “You remember Antoinette?”

Hermione recognized the redheaded werewolf from the last time Fleur’s French friends were in town. A couple of the other women in the group looked familiar.

Sophie lowered her voice, muttering in a low tone in Hermione’s ear.

“By the way, I’m really sorry about _him,_ ” Sophie said quietly, “Antoinette ran into him and invited him.”

Hermione, confused, noticed a man in the group. He was exceedingly handsome, well muscled and had a chiseled jaw. He had a thick head of dark hair, stylishly swept, and tanned skin. He had a large perfectly white smile.

“I’m sorry… I don’t quite understand…” Hermione replied as the group shuffled inside.

Sophie hung back beside Hermione.

“Paul,” Sophie clarified, gesturing at the handsome man, “He’s Fleur’s ex.”

“Oh,” Hermione replied, her heart sinking. Someone that Fleur had chosen, not her Veela blood. He was exceedingly handsome, almost unearthly so. A real match for Fleur’s beauty.

“Don’t let it bother you,” Sophie said, seeming to read Hermione’s mind, “He is a bit of an ass. Besides, I’ve never seen Fleur light up with anyone else the way she does with you.”

“Thanks,” Hermione replied, smiling slightly, though her eyes still stayed on Paul.

“Let us have a glass of wine, darling,” Sophie purred, clearly using a flash of Veela charm to smooth over Hermione’s disgruntled mood. She led them into the kitchen area, complimenting the styling of the cottage at every step.

Hermione fetched them a goblet each, and Sophie produced a bottle of expensive French wine, filling the goblets.

“How long ago did they date?” Hermione asked, narrowing her eyes as she saw Paul embracing and greeting Fleur across the room.

“Years ago,” Sophie said dismissively, “So, I see Ginny is here tonight.”

“Down, tiger,” Hermione chuckled, “She has a girlfriend now—that dark haired witch beside her.”

“Hmmm… She’s cute too,” Sophie smirked, tapping her chin in interest.

“What are you up to?” Hermione asked, eying the crafty Veela with suspicion. She had a decidedly predatory look about her. Hermione was willing to bet that Amelie and Ginny would have their hands full with the alluring Veela.

“Merely interested in getting to know the happy couple,” Sophie said silkily, raising her eyebrows.

As Sophie slipped away to go chat to the unsuspecting Amelie and Ginny, Hermione went to see Fleur. The well-muscled Paul was still talking to her.

“Hey, babe,” Hermione greeted, snaking an arm around Fleur’s slight waist. The part-Veela beamed at her.

“Salut, Hermione,” Fleur greeted, pecking her on the cheek, “Paul, this is my partner, Hermione. Hermione, this is Paul.”

“Hi,” Hermione greeted stiffly.

“Salut, Hermione,” Paul greeted with his thick French accent, he crossed his arms tightly across his chest, flexing his muscles.

“Bill!” Fleur exclaimed, as Bill came to join them, a wine in his hand. He shot a wary look at Hermione before smiling at Fleur.

“Hi, darling,” Bill greeted Fleur with a smile.

“Bill, this is Paul,” Fleur introduced the redhead to her handsome ex, “Paul, this is my best friend, Bill.”

“Charmed,” Paul drawled, his eyes flicking up and down Bill’s outfit with judgment. Bill frowned.

“I’ll be right back,” Fleur said suddenly, waving across the room at Antoinette. She hurried off to greet her other friends, leaving Bill and Hermione with Paul. As soon as Fleur had left, Paul smiled derisively at Hermione.

“ _Quaint_ little place you have here,” Paul smirked. Hermione inwardly groaned. Was every man in Fleur’s life so possessive?!

“Well, Fleur loves it,” Hermione replied evenly.

Paul’s eyes then flicked to Bill.

“It is quite _cute_ how she has settled for this hick life,” Paul smirked, “To be honest, I thought she would move back to France with me and that we would end up in an estate even nicer than her parents’ place.”

“You’ve been to the Delacour Estate?” Hermione asked, narrowing her eyes. Paul smirked.

“Everyone of decent society in Marseilles has, Hermione,” Paul said haughtily, “My family is _very_ well known there.”

“I’ve never heard of you,” Hermione mumbled, rolling her eyes. Paul frowned.

“You know, if you hadn’t gone and knocked her up, we probably would have been dating again by now,” Paul said, flexing his muscles again.

“I don’t know what on Earth she would have seen in you,” Bill cut in, frowning, “Yes, Fleur likes pretty things, but not without substance.”

Paul glared at Bill.

“I don’t know why she would be associating with the likes of you,” Paul sniffed, “Maybe her taste has deteriorated since I left her life.”

“Or she finally saw sense,” Hermione growled.

“I’d stay here and argue with you,” Paul replied, “But I have better things to do,” he raised his voice then, calling across the room, “Hey, Fleur! Let me help you carry that food outside. You look like you need some muscle power!”

He walked off, leaving both Bill and Hermione to grit their teeth with annoyance.

“What an absolute tit,” Bill scowled.

“For once, I agree with you, Bill,” Hermione replied, crossing her arms across her chest.

“What do you think about teaching that arse a lesson?” Bill asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Hermione turned to Bill, an uncharacteristically evil smile growing on her face. She extended her hand.

“Well… As long as you promise not to be a git,” Hermione said. Bill shook Hermione’s hand tightly.

“Deal.”

Later that evening, Hermione sat on a bench under the apple tree with Bill, fuming as she watched Paul show off and fawn over Fleur.

“I don’t know why she would have ever dated a jerk like that,” Hermione grumbled.

“He probably did what everyone does with Fleur,” Bill frowned, crossing his legs as he nursed his wine, “Act charming and lovely whenever she was around—hiding his shitty side from her.”

“Is that what you thought I was doing?” Hermione asked, suddenly curious. She was sipping on a bottle of beer now. Bill shot her a sideways glance.

“Well, it is what _everyone_ does with her,” Bill conceded, “People fall over themselves to be with her, pretending to be people that they’re not.”

Hermione snorted.

“And what did you think I was pretending to be?” Hermione asked, quirking an eyebrow, “I was _pretending_ to be a nerd? A frizzy haired loser?”

Bill shook his head.

“A prodigy and decorated war hero?” Bill said, “You’re just another person who was too good to be true for Fleur.”

“I’ve never tried to be anything I’m not,” Hermione said flatly, her brown eyes turning back to glare at Paul’s back. He was now ridiculously doing push ups in front of Fleur, clapping between them.

“Well, you’ve got nothing on him, that’s for sure,” Bill said, following her gaze.

“I know you’re trying to protect her,” Hermione said, sipping at her beer, “I am too.”

Bill looked at her, nodding quietly. Between her terse conversation with him at his flat, and this conversation, it seemed like Bill was finally starting to believe her.

“So…” Bill cleared his throat, “Interested in messing with Prince Charming over there?”

“Sure,” Hermione replied, “Got any ideas?”

“Please,” Bill smirked, “With Fred and George in the family? I have ideas.”

* * *

Hermione roamed around the housewarming, pleased to see everyone was having a good time. Harry had slung an arm around Luna. Ron had found one of Fleur’s friends was quite into cooking, and was having a genuine conversation with a woman for once, instead of drooling.

Sophie was sitting between Ginny and Amelie on the sofa, a cocky smile across her face. Hermione withheld an eye-roll. She couldn’t believe that Ginny was once again oblivious to the intentions of the pretty Veela. Amelie, on the other hand, seemed well-aware of Sophie’s intentions judging by the broad smile on her face and the way she was looking at both Ginny and Sophie.

“Ginny, Ginny, Ginny,” Hermione muttered to herself, “Perhaps the only one more clueless about women than I am.”

She walked up to Fleur, who was talking with Antoinette and Paul.

“…So then I just rescued the orphans from the fire,” Paul was finishing a tall tale, raising his eyebrows and flexing his muscles. Fleur was simply nodding politely, more interested in catching up with Antoinette than Paul. Yet Hermione was still annoyed by the Frenchman. How _dare_ he come into her family’s house and flirt with Fleur? He wasn’t even invited!

Hermione drained the beer in her hand in one go.

Bill joined the group, letting out a low whistle.

“Wow, Hermione,” Bill commented, “I don’t think I’ve seen _anyone_ neck back a beer that fast! Impressive! Don’t you think, Fleur?”

Fleur, looking a little confused, simply nodded.

Paul narrowed his eyes, looking at Hermione.

“I mean, _nobody_ could finish a beer faster than you, Hermione,” Bill emphasized, shooting Paul a challenging look.

“I could,” Paul said, immediately taking up the challenge. He tensed his muscles, making his biceps stand out.

Bill grinned broadly, producing a frosty uncapped bottle from behind his back.

“Prove it, mate,” Bill said, offering the bottle.

“Fine,” Paul insisted, snatching the bottle. He chugged it down as fast as he could before puffing out his chest proudly, “Did you see that, Fleur? I did it faster than Hermione.”

Fleur looked slowly from Paul to Bill and Hermione as if she could sense something was afoot.

Paul suddenly paled, doubling over.

“Are you okay?” Antoinette asked, raising her eyebrows.

Paul suddenly retched, vomiting a number of fat slugs onto the lawn. Fleur scrunched her face up in disgust while Antoinette let out a horrified scream.

“Fleur—I—“ Paul began, before vomiting up more slugs.

Hermione and Bill excused themselves, waiting until they got inside the cottage to descend into snickers.

“Ron’s infamous incident at Hogwarts inspired me for that one,” Bill smirked. Hermione chuckled, remembering it well. The two of them wandered into the kitchen, pouring themselves a celebratory wine.

“How good was it to see the smug look wiped off his face?” Hermione said with a grin. She’d never usually been one for pranking people, but her possessiveness of Fleur knew few bounds.

A throat clearing alerted Hermione and Bill to Fleur’s presence. She was standing behind them, hands on her hips, tapping a heeled foot.

“Oh, er, hey, Fleur,” Bill greeted weakly, trying not to look guilty.

“Ah, hope Paul is okay,” Hermione said innocently.

“No thanks to you two,” Fleur replied, cocking a brow, “How stupid do you think I am? Don’t think I haven’t noticed you two shooting daggers at him and muttering amongst yourselves.”

“Fleur…” Hermione began, but was waved off by the blonde.

“You’re lucky I also find him obnoxious,” Fleur continued, “I dated him in the summer after I finished Beauxbatons and broke up with him when I realized how vapid and status oriented he is. Antoinette brought him along because she’s always had a soft spot for him. Still… I don’t appreciate you two ruining the housewarming.”

“It isn’t ruined at all, darling,” Bill said with a grin, “If anything, now everyone will have an amusing story to talk about afterwards.”

Fleur narrowed her eyes at them.

“I’m just glad you’re finally getting along with Hermione,” Fleur said eventually, before sweeping away.

Bill smiled at Hermione.

“I guess you aren’t so bad,” he said.

“You aren’t so bad yourself,” Hermione said with a half smile.

The rest of the night was relatively uneventful in comparison. Paul spent an hour outside hunched over a bucket before making his excuses to leave, a sympathetic Antoinette on his arm.

The housewarming was far more enjoyable for Hermione once Paul was gone. She gave out food to the guests, loving how Fleur’s face lit up as people complimented the food.

She even found herself gossiping with Bill, noting how obvious Harry and Luna were whenever they snuck away to snog in private. She also pointed out to Bill how oblivious Ginny was, even as Sophie had one hand on Ginny’s thigh and the other on Amelie’s thigh.

“Is it just me or is Sophie attempting to seduce your sister and her girlfriend?” Fleur asked, coming to join Bill and Hermione.

“Most definitely,” Bill replied.

“It is just hilarious how oblivious she is,” Hermione snorted, “She probably won’t realize what’s going on until they all start snogging each other.”

Fleur shook her head in disbelief.

Hermione snaked an arm around Fleur’s waist, kissing her cheek.

“You know, it has been a great housewarming, Fleur,” Hermione told her girlfriend.

“Despite you two hexing one of the guests,” Fleur said, rolling her eyes.

“I thought you said you were glad we were getting along,” Bill said with a smirk.

“Well, yes, I am,” Fleur said with a sigh, “But you are both so protective of me sometimes.”

“It’s just because we care,” Hermione said apologetically.

As reparation for their actions, Hermione and Bill cleaned up the slugs from the lawn outside. The small housewarming began to wrap up as they finished. Luna and Harry finally made their excuses to head back to Grimmauld Place, blushing profusely. Ron, to his utter surprise, was invited to go out for a drink with Fleur’s friend to discuss cooking some more. Sophie, a smug smile firmly affixed to her face, left with Amelie holding one hand and Ginny holding the other. She flashed Hermione a knowing wink on her way out. Hermione shook her head. Truly incorrigible.

Finally, it was just Bill, Fleur and Hermione left. They cleared up the plates and Bill and Hermione did the dishes together.

Bill shrugged on his jacket as he headed to the door, embracing Fleur tightly.

“I should make more time to hang out with you and Hugo,” Bill said, smiling apologetically, “Hermione too.”

“You’re a total bitch,” Hermione said, “But you’re okay, Bill.”

“You’re a know-it-all,” Bill said with a smirk, “But you’re okay too, Granger.”

They shook hands, much to Fleur’s delight.

* * *

Once Bill had left, Hermione and Fleur went out back to the lawn to look up at the stars. Hermione had a beer in her hand, thankfully hex-free.

“What a wonderful evening,” Fleur sighed happily.

“I guess this would be a great time to tell you my news,” Hermione said, turning to Fleur, “It isn’t official yet… But it looks like the Ministry are going to approve my proposal to review all those awful restrictions on humanoid Magical Creatures. No more getting stopped from entering a hospital, no more arduous paperwork…”

“Hermione!” Fleur gasped, “That is amazing! Oh, I only wish that my project was ready to share with you, too… But hopefully it will be by your birthday next week.”

“What is that mysterious little project?” Hermione asked, eying Fleur suspiciously.

Fleur stepped forward, cupping Hermione’s face.

“Shhh, mon amour,” Fleur said gently, “Let us focus on your achievement. It will be so amazing for my family. For _our_ family.”

“I did it for our family,” Hermione answered, “I was so angry with how Cassandra was treated at St Mungo’s. I hate the way you’re treated and made to feel bad about your Veela blood. I want the world to be a better place for Hugo.”

Fleur’s eyes were stormy with emotion.

“I… I love you, Hermione,” Fleur said cautiously.

She had never said it before, and it made a thousand butterflies erupt in Hermione’s stomach.

“I love you too, Fleur,” Hermione replied, before leaning forward and kissing her girlfriend.

Fleur hummed with delight, deepening the kiss. Hermione shut her eyes, savouring the feeling of Fleur’s soft tongue in her mouth.

When the kiss broke, Hermione grinned, feeling so elated that she had finally got the words out.

“I love you,” Hermione said, pecking Fleur’s cheek, “I love you,” she kissed Fleur’s slender neck, “I love you,” she dropped a kiss to a delicate collarbone.

Fleur’s face lit up at each confession of love. She swept her long mane of silver-blonde hair over one shoulder, placing a finger to Hermione’s lips to halt her.

“As much as I love hearing you say that,” Fleur said softly, “Let me _show_ you how much I love you.”

Her delicate hands made their way to Hermione’s pants, quickly undoing them. Hermione’s eyebrows raised as she realized what was happening. She was silently grateful that they had no nearby neighbours to see into their back lawn.

Fleur smirked, pulling Hermione’s pants and underwear down roughly. Hermione let out a gasp, already finding herself uncomfortable with arousal.

Fleur smoothly sank to her knees before Hermione. Her hands ran up Hermione’s legs, resting on her thighs.

Hermione let out a small whimper, steeling herself with a sip from her beer.

“Someone is excited,” Fleur commented, running an exploratory finger through Hermione’s carefully trimmed pussy.

Hermione trembled. She could never quite believe that someone like her could get someone like Fleur on her knees. It was exquisite.

“I am so glad you are my mate,” Fleur said, kissing Hermione’s hip, “You are so amazing.”

Hermione started to reply, but her words turned to mush as Fleur’s tongue made its first long lick through her folds.

“M-Merlin,” Hermione gasped.

Fleur was licking so painfully slowly.

Hermione reached her hand down, tangling it into Fleur’s silky hair. She tugged it lightly, holding Fleur’s face in place. Fleur let out a small moan, causing Hermione’s hips to quiver.

Fleur’s tongue found her clit and swirled it. Hermione let out a strangled cry, dropping her bottle of beer onto the grass.

She looked down at the beautiful blonde on her knees, her face between her thighs. How on Earth had Hermione got so lucky?

Fleur looked up, her deep blue eyes flecked with silver. As their eyes locked, Hermione felt a sudden boost in her pleasure. She let out a groan, tugging on Fleur’s hair a little again.

Fleur sped up her pace, lapping at Hermione with quick rhythm. Hermione cried out Fleur’s name, throwing her head back.

Fleur brought Hermione’s waves of pleasure higher and higher. Hermione’s hand fisted tighter in Fleur’s hair.

“Gods, I love you Fleur,” Hermione cried out.

Fleur brought her to a sweet climax. Hermione shuddered, her entire body trembling uncontrollably as she came undone at Fleur’s ministrations. Fleur didn’t stop, ensuring she rode out the entirety of her peak.

When Hermione finally, weakly, relaxed, Fleur finally drew her face back. Hermione felt herself getting aroused all over again at seeing her slickness over Fleur’s face. The blonde delicately wiped her face, getting to her feet.

“Was that okay?” Fleur asked, running a hand through her hair to smooth it.

Hermione grinned like a fool.

“That was _amazing!_ ” Hermione uttered. She hitched up her pants with clumsy hands.

Fleur smirked proudly, turning and walking back inside the cottage. Her hips were swaying intoxicatingly, and Hermione found herself following her girlfriend as if she were in a trance. Her eyes were glued to Fleur’s fine form as the blonde walked into the master bedroom and pulled her heels and dress off.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Hermione asked, her voice hoarse.

“Bed,” Fleur said innocently, looking over her shoulder with a smouldering gaze. She unsnapped her bra, letting it fall to the ground.

Hermione’s knees felt weak as she stood before the Aphrodite in front of her.

Fleur bent over, slowly taking her panties off.

Hermione suddenly felt unbearably restrained by her clothes and practically tore them off. She walked up behind Fleur, circling her arms around her waist. Fleur leaned into her arms. Hermione’s breasts were pressed against Fleur’s back, her pelvis flush against Fleur’s backside. She dipped her face into the nook of Fleur’s neck and shoulder, dropping a kiss to the mate scar. Fleur trembled in her arms at the sensation.

“You drive me crazy,” Hermione said, her voice rough with arousal.

Fleur let out a small moan as Hermione ran a hand up her body. It travelled over Fleur’s hip, up her toned stomach, cupped a breast and then covered her smooth throat. Hermione could feel Fleur’s pulse racing under her hand as it rested loosely on her throat.

“Hermione…” Fleur murmured.

Hermione moved her hand up even more slowly, a thumb on one of Fleur’s cheeks, her figners on the other—holding Fleur’s face in place.

“I want you so badly,” Hermione said, her loosely held control beginning to fray. Something about Fleur brought out the animalistic side in her. She slipped two fingers past Fleur’s plump lips and into her mouth. She smiled faintly as Fleur curiously swirled her tongue around them and gently sucked.

Getting too eager, Hermione withdrew her fingers from Fleur’s mouth, releasing the blonde and stepping back. She walked across the room, picking up her wand and slowly casting the necessary contraceptive spell. Her chest was heaving as she panted. She wanted so badly to take Fleur. But if she knew Fleur, the blonde would be even more impatient than her.

“Hermione, get over here,” Fleur whined, right on cue.

Hermione turned around, smirking.

“Now, now, Fleur,” Hermione tutted, “Be nice.”

Fleur threw herself to sit on the bed, pouting.

“Hermione!” Fleur growled, growing even more impatient.

Hermione smirked again.

“Beg me for it,” Hermione demanded.

“Non,” Fleur replied petulantly, “What are you going to do about it?”

Hermione tapped her chin.

“Hmm, well if you won’t behave, I suppose I have little choice,” Hermione said, grinning wickedly. She walked over to the bed and sat beside Fleur, pulling the blonde over her lap. Fleur let out a small noise of surprise as she found herself bent over the brunette’s lap. Hermione spanked the blonde—not too hard—but just enough to bring out a pink colour on the blonde’s cheeks.

Fleur, despite herself, let out a moan before blushing a deep scarlet.

“Are you going to behave now?” Hermione asked, resting her hand on the blonde’s backside. Fleur wriggled a little in her lap.

“Oui,” she replied breathlessly.

“Good,” Hermione replied, a throb of desire between her legs, “Now get on your hands and knees.”

The blonde obediently did as told, her eyes flashing with silver flecks.

Hermione reached into a bedside table, pulling out the charmed strap-on. She slid it neatly over her hips before clambering onto the bed. She eagerly positioned herself behind the mother of her child, grasping Fleur’s hips firmly.

The blonde pressed back into her, her eagerness encouraging Hermione.

She reached down and guided the toy into Fleur, groaning as the charm worked and she felt Fleur’s slick folds around the toy. She slid it deep inside Fleur, starting to thrust.

“Merde,” Fleur groaned, “I love it when you take charge like this.”

Hermione could only moan in response, pumping as hard as she could. It felt so good taking Fleur like this. Her hands slid back to rest on Fleur’s backside, squeezing with appreciation. Fleur’s back dipped as Hermione continued to pound her in earnest. Her brunette curls were falling over her face, which was quickly becoming flushed.

She felt beyond blessed to have Fleur as a partner, and loved nothing more than worshipping her body. This dynamic between them had quickly developed, of Hermione becoming increasingly dominant and Fleur taking on a more submissive role. It turned on each of them to no end.

Fleur’s hands fisted in the sheets as her cries became more desperate. Hermione could tell she was close, she just had to get her to the end. The tightness of Fleur’s walls on the toy was bringing her close, but she was determined to get Fleur there first. She thrusted fast, biting her lip and trying to think of things that would keep her going a little longer: Ron in a wig. Scabbers. Umbridge.

She planted a hand on the base of Fleur’s back, watching with fascination as the blonde completely and utterly fell apart, crying her name.

At this, Hermione finally lost her own control, shuddering and finishing at the same time.

Both women gave way, falling to the mattress, Hermione on top of the blonde. She panted heavily, still inside Fleur.

“Merde,” Fleur gasped.

Hermione withdrew from her, shedding the toy and tossing it from the bed. She pulled Fleur tightly into her arms.

“It is much nicer when we don’t have to worry about Hugo interrupting,” Hermione said with a gentle smile.

“I love you,” Fleur said, nuzzling into her.

“I love you too,” Hermione replied, tightening her grip on the blonde.

“Another round, mon amour?” Fleur suggested, raising an eyebrow.

* * *

The next morning, Hermione and Fleur were uncharacteristically late to pick up Hugo, arriving tousle-haired with clothes slightly askew.

Mr and Mrs Weasley exchanged knowing looks. Their children might argue otherwise, but once upon a time Arthur and Molly were newly in love. They recognized the signs of a young and loved up couple.

“Hello, Hugo,” Fleur cooed, holding the little blonde in her arms, “Did you miss your Mum and Maman?”

Hugo gurgled and kicked his legs.

“He is a sweet baby,” Molly smiled, “No trouble at all!”

“I’m glad to hear he wasn’t too much of a handful,” Hermione said gratefully, hugging Arthur and Molly.

“He’s a very calm child,” Arthur concurred, “Look… If ever you need some time alone with your girlfriend, you can always call on Molly and I. We know what it was like to be young and in love, believe it or not.”

“And you know you’re like a child to us, dear,” Molly smiled motherly.

Hermione nodded, rubbing her eyes so they wouldn’t see the tears brimming a little. She loved the Weasleys, but times like this made her really miss her own folks.

Fleur cast her a sympathetic look.

“Come, my lion,” Fleur said gently, “Let us go to brunch with Hugo. Then Hugo and I have to head out on our own to plan some surprises for your birthday next week.”

“Oooh, mysterious!” Hermione grinned.

She might not have her own parents in her life. But she loved her own family more than her heart could take.


	26. Chapter 26

Hermione and Fleur arrived to brunch soon after picking Hugo up. They had taken longer than planned because Hugo had needed another change before they left the Weasleys.

Unfortunately for Hermione, it was her turn to change him. But nothing could dampen her mood.

  
Their morning had been spent squeezing in some vigorous lovemaking before picking up their son, so Hermione was feeling on top of the world. 

Hermione and Fleur managed to scoop a seat right by the window, sunny in the late morning light. Hermione loved looking at the way that the sun brought out the silvery quality of Fleur’s platinum blonde hair. It reminded her of the way Fleur had looked earlier that morning, straddling her in bed, toned muscles and delicate features illuminated and shadowed in the morning sun. Her hair had glittered like it was made of silver and gold. Her bright blue eyes had never seemed more alive.

Right now Fleur’s face had lit up as Hugo played with a fistful of her silky hair. She didn’t even seem to mind when he tried to shove it into his mouth, covering it in slobber.

“You missed him, huh?” Hermione asked, smiling at her girlfriend.

Fleur looked up at Hermione, pouting adorably.

“It’s just so hard not having him around,” Fleur said, “As much as I enjoyed having some adults-only time with you.”

“I worried about him a little,” Hermione confessed, “I know Molly and Arthur are more than capable… But I’m so protective of our little boy.”

Fleur smiled at her.

“You’re so sweet,” Fleur beamed.

They shared a plate of waffles, feeling very much loved up. As they finished their brunch, Hermione shot Fleur with what she hoped was a cute look.

“So… You’re not even going to give me a hint about what this project is that you’re working on?” Hermione asked, cocking her head to one side.

Fleur leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs and flipping her shimmering hair over her shoulder. She looked at Hermione with glittering eyes.

“Mon amour, you are very cute, but I can’t ruin the surprise,” Fleur said with a smile, “What I can say, is that it’s all coming together. Do you think you would be able to get some time off for your birthday?”

“Sure,” Hermione answered, even more mystified, “Not even a slight clue?”

Fleur smiled serenely.

“We need to travel for the surprise,” Fleur said, “But it has all worked out quite well.”

Hermione looked suspiciously at Fleur, her mind whirring into overdrive. She tried not to overthink it. The last thing she wanted to do would be to work out what the surprise was and ruin seeing Fleur’s face. The best part about Fleur surprising her was really how much the blonde lit up with excitement.

They finished up their brunch. Fleur settled Hugo into his little pram outside while Hermione settled up the bill. Fleur and Hugo were going to spend the afternoon working on Hermione’s birthday surprise, while Hermione was going to stop past and visit Ginny. She had owled the redhead when she had woken up, curious to find out what had happened the previous night with Amelie and Sophie.

She stepped out, kissing Fleur gently on the lips. She planted a kiss on Hugo’s forehead, who gurgled and kicked his legs in response.

“Okay, so no following us, right?” Fleur asked, fixing Hermione with a stern look, “I know how curious you can get.”

“No, I promise,” Hermione said with a warm smile. Fleur was being truly adorable.

Fleur smiled, appeased, heading off with Hugo and giving Hermione a small wave.

Hermione’s stomach flipped.

She apparated to Ginny’s flat. Ginny shared a place in the city with Luna and another girl they had gone to Hogwarts with.

“Gin?” Hermione called out.

Ginny had indicated in her reply that morning that she would definitely be free by midday.

“Ginny?” Hermione called out, louder.

Luna didn’t appear to be home. She might still be at Grimmauld Place with Harry. Their other flatmate didn’t seem to be home either.

“Ginny, are you even home?” Hermione called out, exasperated.

She saw Ginny’s door was ajar. Hermione decided to just peek in to confirm Ginny was out of the house before giving up and going home.

Hermione pushed the door open, freezing as she realized, people _were_ in fact home.

Ginny was in bed, naked as the day she was born, being passionately kissed by Sophie. The part Veela had pinned the redhead to the bed by her wrists.

“Oh—Gods—I’m sorry—“ Hermione spluttered, blushing.

Sophie looked up, smirking, before diving back to kiss Ginny. Ginny, suddenly red as a beet, pushed the forward blonde off herself.

“Oh Merlin!” Ginny gasped, yanking the covers up to cover herself.

Sophie, seeming as confident with her body as Fleur, merely leaned back against the pillows, folding her arms behind her head.

“I’m so sorry, Gin—You said you’d be ready by midday…” Hermione babbled, rubbing the back of her neck, “Wait, where’s Amelie?”

“Here!” a muffled voice replied.

Amelie emerged from the depths of the blankets, wedging herself between Ginny and Sophie. If it were possible for Ginny to blush darker, she did.

“Ahh… I’ll just wait in the living room,” Hermione said, blushing herself.

She shut the door tightly, heading to the living room and sitting down on a couch. She _knew_ Ginny would have fallen for Sophie’s seductive charms again. But somehow she hadn’t quite predicted it would continue well into the next day.

Ginny appeared quickly, wrapped tightly in a purple fluffy robe. She sheepishly crept into the room, sitting on a couch opposite Hermione.

“So…” Hermione said slowly. Her eyes slipped to the redhead’s slender neck, littered with lovebites.

“Er, do you mind… _Not_ telling the others about this?” Ginny said, wincing, “I would never hear the end of it.”

“I mean, I can’t say I never saw it coming,” Hermione shrugged.

“I certainly didn’t see it coming!” Ginny yelped.

“Are you serious? Sophie was all over you and Amelie last night,” Hermione scoffed, “She couldn’t keep her hands to herself.”

“I just…” Ginny blushed, “She’s just such a wild thing… I mean, is it a Veela thing? Just taking charge like that and pouncing?”

Now it was Hermione’s turn to blush, thinking about how she took the more dominant role in bed with Fleur. She thought about how Cassandra had said the Veela could be like that though, falling into their predatory nature and taking charge. But judging from the state of Ginny, it didn’t seem the worst thing in the world to be the prey of a Veela.

“It, er, could be,” Hermione said non-committedly.

“I’m sorry, Hermione,” Ginny said, “I know we were supposed to hang out…”

Hermione quirked a grin.

“That’s okay… I can see you have your hands full,” Hermione smirked, “I’ll go and see the boys instead.”

The tips of Ginny’s ears were red and she averted her eyes. Hermione chuckled.

“Er, thanks, Hermione,” Ginny said with uncharacteristic shyness.

Hermione waved off her friend, leaving her to her fun. She apparated to Grimmauld Place.

Ron, Harry, and Luna were all sitting at the table as if they had just been in the middle of some kind of meeting.

“Hermione? What are you doing here?” Ron asked, “Did you leave something of Hugo’s behind? _Ow!_ ”

Harry elbowed the redhead, hard.

Hermione narrowed her eyes.

“Something of Hugo’s? Were Hugo and Fleur just here?” Hermione asked.

Harry and Ron shook their heads too vigorously. They were terrible liars.

“Nah,” Harry said, running a nervous hand through his spikes of raven hair, “We were… Luna and I were… We were just asking Ron about the girl he copped off with last night.”

“ _Copped off with?!_ ” Ron echoed in a scandalized tone, reminding Hermione very much of Molly Weasley, “Marie is a _woman_ , Harry. I won’t have you talking about her like that.”

Hermione’s eyes widened and her jaw fell open. Ron had to be the most pig-like of all her friends when it came to speaking about women.

“Who are you and what have you done with Ron?” Hermione asked, baffled. Harry was chuckling, amused.

“Mate, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk about a girl like this before,” Harry said, “I mean, it’s about time… But what about Marie is so special? I thought you drooled over all Fleur’s friends.”

“She’s just… She’s really cool, okay, guys?” Ron said, going a little red and playing with his hands, “Nothing happened… We just ended up talking all night. But we have loads in common. She even likes the Chudley Cannons!”

How a Frenchwoman would even know about Ron’s godforsaken regional team was past Hermione, but it was quite cute.

Hermione tried her best to wheedle clues from Harry, Ron and Luna throughout the afternoon, but it appeared that Fleur had taken a hard line with them all. None of them were willing to even hint at what they knew.

When Hermione got home, she was further intrigued when Fleur mentioned in passing that she had seen Sophie that day. Considering Hermione knew _perfectly_ well that Sophie was very much occupied with two of her other friends, Hermione’s suspicions were very much piqued. She may not know anything about her birthday surprise, but she did know that all her friends appeared to be in on it.

The rest of the week went on in a similar fashion. Hermione caught Fleur many times on her hand mirror talking to Gabrielle, on her phone speaking quietly in French, or sending off Owls.

Hermione funneled her growing curiosity into her work.

It was the only way she could cope with Fleur’s sneaking without attempting to ruin the surprise.

It paid off though. Not only had Lemnos secured the official approval for Hermione’s proposal, but now the whole team were reviewing a number of outdated restrictions. The first one, banning Magical Creatures from public places such as train stations and hospitals, was set to be repealed the week after Hermione’s birthday. Hermione couldn’t wait. It was a hell of a win to kick off the big review.

* * *

Hermione awoke to soft singing.

_“Happy birthday to you…”_

She opened her brown honey-flecked eyes to find her girlfriend and baby standing at the end of the bed. Fleur was jiggling Hugo in her arms. The little blonde baby was gurgling and kicking his little feet.

Hermione sat up in bed, her heart absolutely melting at Fleur and Hugo singing her Happy Birthday. Not that Hugo was really singing. But it was still incredibly adorable.

“I’m so glad I took work off,” Hermione grinned.

Fleur came and dropped Hugo in Hermione’s arms. She dropped a kiss to Hermione’s forehead sweetly before sweeping out of the room again. She returned soon after with a tray of breakfast.

“Pancakes, fruit, syrup and yoghurt,” Fleur smiled, “And a cup of tea with just a splash of milk.”

“Ohhhh, Merlin,” Hermione uttered, her mouth watering. Fleur deposited the tray on her lap before scooping Hugo from Hermione’s arms.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Fleur said, casting a quick _accio_ spell, “A copy of _The Daily Prophet_ as well as _Ancient Runes Monthly._ ”

“Have I ever told you that I love you?” Hermione said, looking at Fleur with pure adoration.

Fleur grinned.

“I’m going to take Hugo into the living room and cast a silencing spell so he can’t interrupt your reading if he gets fussy,” Fleur told the cosy brunette, “You take your time and enjoy your morning in bed. When you’re ready to get up, just come to us in the living room. Then we will be ready for the next stage of your birthday treat.”

Hermione hadn’t had a quiet moment to just sit around and read for pleasure since Hugo had been born. Not at home, anyway. It felt incredibly luxurious to bask in the morning sun, dig into her breakfast and scan the latest news.

She let out a big sigh, stretching happily.

“This is the life,” Hermione murmured to herself. She suddenly felt like she was becoming her own father. He, too, found one of the greatest luxuries to be his annual Father’s Day breakfast in bed with the newspaper and all his favourite reference journals.

Hermione felt a sharp stab of grief at the memory of him ruffling a newspaper.

Pushing it to one side with practiced compartmentalization, Hermione turned her attentions to _Ancient Runes Monthly._

It was mid-morning when Hermione finally got up and showered. She was feeling thoroughly relaxed and spoilt after her morning. Not knowing where they were going, she pulled on a plain sweater and some black jeans with her black converse. She brushed her hair simply, flashing a confident smile at herself in the mirror.

Another year older.

So much had changed in Hermione’s life in the past year and a bit.

Hermione headed out to the living room where Fleur was patiently waiting, trying to get Hugo not to tug too hard on her long silky hair. A suitcase was on the floor next to them.

“So where are we going?” Hermione asked.

Fleur beamed, standing up and coming to kiss her girlfriend.

“Promise not to be disappointed, but we are going to Marseilles. My parents absolutely _insisted_ on being involved with your birthday, and we needed to go over that way for the surprise project I have been working on anyway,” Fleur said, flashing an apologetic smile.

“I _love_ Marseilles!” Hermione insisted, beaming, “I also love seeing your family!”

“Bon,” Fleur sighed, looking considerably relieved.

“So… I guess we’re in for Hugo’s first big train ride,” Hermione said, looking at the large brown eyes of their son. He looked so curious, even at such a young age. Hermione just knew Hugo would have her thirst for knowledge.

“Non,” Fleur said, flashing a smile, “It took a bit of working, but I managed to get an exception to use an international Portkey.”

“Really?!” Hermione exclaimed, “They usually save those for international sporting events and the likes, to avoid congestion with public transport.”

“Mmn, but they have made an exception,” Fleur said silkily. She produced a small pencil from her pocket.

Hermione and Fleur held the pencil and helped Hugo latch on to it. As expected, Hermione felt a sensation like a hook just behind her navel, before being pulled into darkness.

Hermione felt her feet slam onto the marbled floor of the Delacour entranceway. She forgot how dizzy Portkeys made her feel. Hugo began to cry, wailing loudly and screaming.

“Hush, little guy,” Hermione soothed, taking Hugo from Fleur, “I know that didn’t feel very good. But now you’ll get to see your grandparents!”

Hugo kept crying, upset after his unsettling transportation.

There was a neat clipping of shoes on the marble floor. Fleur and Hermione looked up to see the familiar butler, Paul.

“Mademoiselles,” he bowed, “May I take the bebe? The family have arranged for a suitable nanny to be on the grounds during your trip.”

“Oh!” Hermione exclaimed, “I mean it seems a little unfair to offload him when he is so grumpy…”

“Merci,” Fleur smiled with a nod. Paul lifted Hugo from Hermione’s arms.

“You are much lovelier than the _other_ Paul that Fleur knows,” Hermione said, smirking at Fleur.

“Oh you met Fleur’s former paramour?” Butler Paul asked, raising an eyebrow, “Hmmm he was not a favourite of the staff here.”

“He was quite rude,” Fleur concurred, “But I trust you all love my new partner?”

Paul beamed.

“Of course! Mademoiselle Hermione is the _Golden Girl!_ Plus, very polite and humble,” Paul replied with a smile. Hugo was already beginning to calm down in his arms.

Hermione felt a little uncomfortable at the praise being loaded on her. She shuffled awkwardly on her feet. Fleur seemed to sense Hermione’s awkwardness, stepping in.

“So, have you seen my parents or grandmere?” Fleur asked.

Paul smiled.

“They headed out some time ago but are expected back any time now,” Paul replied, “You go ahead and get settled. They will be back before you know it.”

“Bon,” Fleur replied.

Hermione and Fleur made their way up the staircase. Fleur stepped ahead of Hermione with purpose, carrying their suitcase. Hermione couldn’t help but let her eyes drift to the blonde’s derriere. She was wearing a simple dress and heels, but Hermione could still very much appreciate the blonde’s form in the clothes.

Fleur had just stepped into the bedroom and placed down their suitcase when Hermione swiftly shut the bedroom door and pinned Fleur against it.

“Hermione,” Fleur gasped, surprised.

Hermione pressed her body flush against Fleur’s, nuzzling into her neck.

“I want my birthday present,” Hermione growled.

“I—uh--- I don’t have it with us,” Fleur gasped, as Hermione’s hands travelled up her thighs and under her dress.

“I’m not talking about that,” Hermione said hungrily, “I’m talking about _you._ ”

“Hermione,” Fleur whimpered as Hermione’s hands explored boldly beneath her dress, “Are you sure?”

“Hugo is being looked after, your family are out… Who knows when we will next have a moment alone?” Hermione panted into Fleur’s neck.

Fleur melted into her arms, giving in to her girlfriend. Hermione only paused long enough to do the necessary contraceptive spell.

Finally, their lips met, warm and passionate. They kissed deeply, stumbling backwards towards the bed. Clothes were shed madly, tossed across the room without a care. Hermione fell back onto the bed, pulling the now-naked Veela on top of her. Fleur immediately began grinding on her. Hermione’s hands tugged at her hips desperately before grabbing her ass.

Fleur slid to straddle one of Hermione’s thighs and Hermione trembled with arousal at how wet the blonde was. Fleur’s tongue still in her mouth, Hermione’s moan was silenced as the blonde slid a hand down between her legs and began to offer her some relief.

Fleur, as with most things she did, was delicate and careful. Hermione found her hips twitching as Fleur’s skilled fingers worked. Fleur broke their kiss finally, kissing down her neck and brushing her teeth gently against her collarbone. Hermione shivered with pleasure.

Fleur looked up at her, sapphire meeting deep brown eyes. Fleur’s full pouty lips were suspended just above one of Hermione’s nipples. She could feel Fleur’s breath on the stiff nub, a teasing sensation.

Fleur maintained eye contact as she slowly dropped her lips to the nipple, taking it into her mouth. Hermione felt her warm, wet tongue swirl around the nub and let out a strangled moan. Her back arched beneath the blonde.

Fleur nipped it playfully with her teeth, causing Hermione to inhale sharply. The soft tongue soon swirled again, a soothing contrast.

Fleur dropped her eyes to Hermione’s body again as she released the nipple from her mouth, dropping a soft kiss to a particularly jarring scar on Hermione’s upper abs. Fleur had made Hermione feel at ease with her scars over time. But right now, she was really making Hermione feel like they were beautiful and sexy.

Fleur looked up, locking eyes with Hermione again as she ran her tongue slowly up the length of the scar that started just above Hermione’s navel and ended at the base of her breasts.

“Oh, sweet, sweet Merlin,” Hermione moaned.

Fleurs hand was still at work, rhythmically pleasuring her clit. Between the dexterous pleasuring of her bundle of nerves down there, and Fleur’s worshipping of the rest of her body, Hermione wasn’t sure how much longer she could last.

Fleur slid Hermione’s other nipple into her mouth, beginning to treat it in kind as its partner. Hermione’s hands fisted in the sheets. She threw her head back, her eyes flickering shut.

Fleur seemed to be feeling competitive, rallying the speed of her fingers in her efforts to get Hermione off.

Hermione writhed on the bed.

Fleur, abandoning her play with Hermione’s chest, covered the brunette’s body more fully with her own, bringing her lips to brush against the shell of Hermione’s ear. Hermione felt herself pushed to the edge at the sound of Fleur’s breathy pants.

“Come on, mon amour,” Fleur purred, “Come for me.”

Hermione moaned, feeling like she was teetering right on the very edge. She felt Fleur’s full lips smile against her ear.

“Mon amour,” Fleur murmured in an impossibly seductive voice, “I’m yours.”

Hermione hit her crescendo, shuddering beneath Fleur as she came undone. The head-rush of elation was deafening. She could barely hear herself crying out as she finished. Fleur held her to the end, murmuring sweet nothings in French and kissing at her neck.

When Fleur finally rolled off her, Hermione was grinning at the ceiling like a fool, chest heaving.

“Was that okay?” Fleur asked.

“Bloody brilliant,” Hermione panted. She frowned as Fleur got up from the bed.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she asked the blonde.

“I gave you your ‘birthday present,’” Fleur shrugged, looking about the room for her clothes. It looked like a small tornado had strewn the women’s clothing across the bedroom.

“I’m not done,” Hermione said, sitting up and running a hand through her messed curls.

“Non?” Fleur asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Non,” Hermione replied firmly, “I didn’t cast that contraceptive spell for nothing. Its your turn.”

Fleur smiled coyly, returning to the bed with extra sway in her hips. Hermione got up, going over to their suitcase and opening it roughly.

“Hermione,” Fleur pouted, “You always go to such ridiculous lengths to keep me waiting. Why are you wasting your time with our luggage?” 

“I have a reason for my rummaging,” Hermione assured, “Now, behave.”

Fleur fell silent, crossing her arms impatiently.

Hermione found what she was after. The charmed toy. It had fast become a favourite of Hermione’s. Though she didn’t use every time they made love, she loved it when she was really in the mood. There was something incredibly arousing about watching Fleur bounce on it in her lap.

“Ohh,’ Fleur said, her full lips quirking into a smile as she watched Hermione slip the strap-on over her hips.

“Hush, Fleur, and get on your hands and knees,” Hermione instructed.

Fleur, to Hermione’s pleasure, obeyed. The brunette practically leapt on the bed, positioning herself behind Fleur. She gripped the toy with one hand, using her other hand to pull Fleur back into her. She shut her eyes and groaned as the charm worked, allowing her to feel the sensation of sliding inside Fleur.

Once inside, Hermione rested both hands on Fleur’s backside as she began thrusting. The feeling was indescribable. Fleur’s back dipped and she let out small whimpers and cries of pleasure as her enjoyment grew.

Hermione savoured the little noises of pleasure the blonde was making, punctuated by the steady slap of her pelvis against the blonde’s backside. Hermione felt like she was in heaven.

“Best. Birthday. Ever.” Hermione grunted softly.

“Hermione,” Fleur moaned. Hermione loved hearing the way Fleur moaned her name when in the throes of pleasure.

“Tell me you’re mine,” Hermione demanded.

“H-Hermione,” Fleur whimpered.

“Tell me you’re mine,” Hermione repeated with a needy growl.

All of a sudden, the door slammed open, the Delacour clan walking in excitedly.

“Paul said you had arrived— _Oh dear!”_ Apolline squawked.

Hermione’s eyes snapped open in horror, taking in the surprised faces of Cassandra and Apolline. Alexandre, with lightning speed, had already clapped a hand over his eyes.

“Merde!” Fleur shrieked.

“Fuck!” Hermione swore, pulling out of Fleur as fast as she could and grabbing at nearby pillows to cover them.

“Maman! Papa! Grandmere! Get _out_!” Fleur shrieked in mortification.

The elder Delacours quickly left the room, shutting the door firmly behind them.

Hermione and Fleur stared at each other, wide-eyed.

“I… Uh… Didn’t think they would be home so soon,” Hermione said, rubbing the back of her neck, “Or, uh, come bowling right in here if they were.” 

“They were very excited for our visit,” Fleur said hollowly, looking like she was in shock.

The two girls sat in stunned silence, processing the awkwardness of what had just happened.

“I suppose we should get dressed and go down to see them,” Fleur said finally.

“Do we have to?” Hermione asked, slipping the strap-on off herself. The mood had truly passed, “I don’t want them to be awkward.”

“They’re Veela. If anything, they will be horrifically _not_ -awkward about it,” Fleur said with a frown, “My Papa may be a little awkward though.”

“Oh, Merlin,” Hermione groaned.

  
She wasn’t sure how exactly it had gone from being her best birthday ever to her worst, but here she was. She had loved her easy friendship with Alexandre.

_‘How can I ever look him in the eye again after he walked in on me giving it to his daughter?’_ Hermione thought to herself, stricken.

“It will be fine,” Fleur soothed, tossing Hermione some clothes, “After all, I’ve walked in on my parents before. Grandmere too,” Fleur shuddered.

Now Fleur was over the initial shock of it, her attitude was cheering Hermione up a little. It might be incredibly uncomfortable. But it wasn’t the end of the world. They had a child! _Obviously_ the Delacours knew that they had a sex life. It was hardly a secret.

Hermione got changed, convincing herself that it wasn’t a big deal. From what Fleur had said, Veela were so sex-positive that they probably didn’t even think it was a thing at all. In fact, maybe they wouldn’t bring it up at all.

She took Fleur’s hand, heading downstairs.

They found the Delacours in the dining room, sitting down to some drinks. Cassandra immediately fixed Hermione with a wide smile.

“You took my advice, I see,” Cassandra said proudly, “Asserting yourself as the bolder partner, indeed.”

Hermione blushed deep red.

“Grandmere!” Fleur yelped.

“Cassandra,” Alexandre chided, “Didn’t we just agree not to bother the girls about it?”

Hermione sat down beside Apolline, across from Alexandre. Fleur sat down at her other side. Cassandra beamed at her grandchild, sitting opposite Fleur.

“Alexandre, you have such a prudish outlook,” Cassandra said, still smiling at Hermione and Fleur, “It is the sign of a good mating bond that they cannot keep their hands off each other.”

“Stop,” Fleur groaned, burying her face in her hands, “You’re all so _Veela._ ”

“There’s nothing wrong with that, dear,” Apolline said to Fleur. Fleur peeked up from her hands, scowling.

“There is when your family insist on discussing sex at the table!” Fleur said sulkily.

Apolline, ignoring Fleur, turned to Hermione and put a hand on her shoulder.

“Hermione, I just wanted to let you know that we are _so_ happy you are Fleur’s mate,” Apolline said genuinely, beaming at the brunette.

“Oh, er, thanks,” Hermione said, relaxing a little.

“Now I know you’re even more of a perfect match,” Apolline said, clapping her hands together, “Fleur is so stubborn and proud I never would have thought she would have someone bringing out her submissive side like that.” 

“Maman!” Fleur bellowed, aggravated.

Hermione blushed darkly.

“Well, it’s true,” Apolline smiled, sipping at her water.

“Is everything ready outside?” Fleur interrupted, narrowing her eyes at her mother.

“Oui, oui,” Apolline said, waving her hand dismissively.

“What is outside?” Hermione asked, turning to Fleur.

Fleur looked at a clock on the wall, which had just struck twelve-thirty.

“You can’t have an enjoyable lunch outside in England in September,” Fleur said, smiling, “But it is lovely weather in Marseilles!”

Hermione smiled. She did love dining outside in the pretty Marseilles scenery.

They got up and headed outside, the Delacours taking their drinks with them. Hermione followed them, her jaw dropping at the scene outside.

The Delacours had decorated the lawn with several large floral installations. A beautiful table was laid out in the centre of them, prettily decorated. A banner hovered magically above the table, spelling out _‘Happy Birthday Hermione.’_

Around the table were all Hermione’s nearest and dearest: Harry, Ron, Ginny, Amelie, Mr Weasley, Mrs Weasley, and Luna. Even little Hugo was at the table, accompanied by a matronly like woman that Hermione assumed was the nanny.

“Wow…” Hermione gaped.

“Surprise!” the group called out.

“I hope this is okay…” Fleur murmured self-consciously.

“All my favourite people in the same place? It’s amazing, Fleur!” Hermione said, smiling widely, “I don’t think anyone has ever done anything like this for me before.”

“I would do anything and more for you, mon amour,” Fleur smiled, sweeping in and kissing Hermione.

“Now PDA!” Apolline remarked to Cassandra, “Hermione really has changed our little icicle!”

“She’s becoming more Veela each day,” Cassandra replied.

“Maman! Grandmere!” Fleur growled. But she kept her arm around Hermione and pecked her on the cheek, more concerned with her mate than her pesky Veela relatives.

Hermione sat down as the food was deposited on the table: all of her favourites. Alexandre even brought in some wine from a local vineyard.

Hermione looked around the table as she savoured her lunch. Harry was joking around with Luna, Ron was telling Alexandre about Marie and the cookbook she had owled him. Hugo was gurgling and kicking as Mr and Mrs Weasley played with him. Everything was perfect. She only wished her parents could be there to see how her life had panned out.

Fleur had a hand on Hermione’s thigh and was politely asking Amelie and Ginny where they were staying. It appeared unlike the others, they would not be heading directly back to Britain.

Hermione smirked as Ginny’s ears reddened and Amelie choked on her wine, before admitting that they would be staying with Sophie.

As lunch leisurely began to wind up, Hermione found herself inundated with eagerly presented gifts.

Ron, Luna and Harry had gone in together to purchase Hermione a set of leather-bound wizarding encyclopedias, which had clumsily been wrapped by Ron. Hermione felt her hands itching to leaf through them already. Amelie and Ginny had got Hermione a curious pair of eyeglasses. At her confused reaction, Ginny clarified. They had been purchased from Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes. They allowed the wearer to see in the dark perfectly clearly – allowing Hermione to continue reading in bed at night long after Fleur had put out the lamps. Hermione was elated. The Veela often got grumpy if Hermione left the lamp on too long while reading before sleep.

Mr and Mrs Weasley had got Hermione a lumpy knitted scarf and beanie, which Hermione profusely thanked them for. She had no doubt that she would be getting another Christmas jumper in December to accompany them.

The Delacours had bought Hermione a writing set with the finest quills, inks and parchment that Hermione had ever seen. Some of the inks even changed colour depending on the tone the writer was using.

Hermione’s heart swelled as she was passed her final present, an elegantly wrapped box that stated it was from Fleur and Hugo.

Fleur leaned in close to her, her lips brushing her ear.

“I have something else for you after lunch,” Fleur clarified.

Hermione turned the small wrapped box in her hands, pondering what it was. It was quite small. For a moment, she wildly considered it might be a ring. Alexandre was excitedly taking photographs of them all and all of her loved ones were there… It would be the perfect timing. A part of her was a little scared by that. It was awfully soon. She and Fleur had barely adjusted to having a child. But another part of her was incredibly excited by the prospect.

Glancing at Fleur, however, she could tell that it wasn’t a momentous statement. Unwrapping it slowly, she found a pretty gold necklace inside. The pendant was the symbol of the Deathly Hallows.

“Harry and Ron assured me you wouldn’t find it morbid,” Fleur said quickly.

“I don’t,” Hermione replied honestly, “I love it.”

The Deathly Hallows represented an enormous chapter of her life. Traumatic, sure. But it also reminded her of how much she valued the freedom of those around her and appreciated the loved ones that she still had around. She had even considered once or twice getting it as a tattoo, but had always chickened out. No, a necklace was much more her style.

Fleur relaxed, her tense shoulders lowering as Hermione excitedly put it on.

“So, if this isn’t the project you’ve been working on, what is?” Hermione asked, confused. Fleur grinned impishly.

“Patience, we must finish up here and farewell our guests first,” Fleur teased.

Hermione groaned, but relented all the same.

* * *

“So,” Hermione said, breaking the silence as she travelled in the carriage with Fleur, “When Molly was saying goodbye to Hugo, she mentioned that they had been spending a _lot_ of time together lately. Is this why you have taken so remarkably well to having Hugo all day as well as all night?”

Fleur smirked, looking out the window with practiced indifference.

“He has had a few trips to The Burrow,” Fleur said casually, “I had some errands to run further afield and could not take him with me.”

“Errands being this project you’ve been working on?” Hermione asked.

“Perhaps,” Fleur said, her sapphire eyes turning to look at Hermione with amusement.

“That you’re still not going to tell me about,” Hermione said flatly, “Even though we are literally on our way there.”

“And you say _I_ am the impatient one,” Fleur chuckled.

“You don’t have to be so goddamn mysterious,” Hermione complained.

Fleur arched her eyebrow dangerously.

“Considering my entire family caught me indulging you in your last birthday wish, I think I am entitled to _some_ mystery, non?” Fleur said lightly, though her tone clearly showed Hermione should not push her luck further. She was learning quickly when the Veela temper flared.

“Er, you’re right, babe,” Hermione said diplomatically, rubbing the back of her neck. Never mind that she was _just_ as traumatized as Fleur about getting caught.

“It is fine,” Fleur sighed, “Veela are just so overly sexual all the time. I used to be used to it, but now it just bothers me. My mother and grandmere discuss sex over the dinner table as candidly as current affairs. I’m sorry you have to put up with it.”

“You don’t have to be embarrassed,” Hermione said with a small smile, “It is quite a lot to get used to. But I’ve always been a little prudish myself. If it is a Veela thing, and it is your family, I’m more than happy to get used to it.”

Fleur smiled slightly, seeming a little less annoyed about it.

“Well… Okay,” Fleur said, “But we are definitely triple locking the door and casting silencing spells from now on.”

“Agreed,” Hermione said with such enthusiasm it made Fleur laugh.

“I love you,” Fleur said earnestly, leaning in and kissing Hermione softly.

The carriage ground to a halt.

Hermione’s curiosity was almost unbearable now. They had travelled in the carriage for nearly an hour now. Fleur got out of the carriage with such a leisurely pace, Hermione was growing more convinced that this was some way of getting back at her for testing the blonde’s own impatience regularly.

Leaping out eagerly after Fleur, Hermione found that they were in a small Muggle village with cobbled streets. What on Earth could Fleur have planned in the Muggle world? And why did they need to be in France for it? And why this village in particular?

“I can practically hear your brain whirring, mon amour,” Fleur said with a smile, “We are just about there.”

She looped her arm through Hermione’s walking them down the street. Her heels clicked loudly on the streets and passing Muggles stared at her. Hermione supposed the Veela stood out. She was awfully formal looking in her dress and heels from lunch. Hermione wondered why she hadn’t changed into something more comfortable for their journey. Then she rolled her eyes. Of course she wouldn’t have. She was Fleur, she _loved_ wearing high heels and dresses.

Fleur stopped in front of a tiny little bar. Hermione was absolutely baffled now. It was mid afternoon and hardly the type of place she would imagine Fleur would want to be caught dead at.

“This is it?” Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows.

Fleur smiled in the proud manner she had about her.

“Patience, my lion,” Fleur soothed. She slipped her hand into Hermione’s leading the brunette inside the bar.

She spoke rapidly to a man behind the bar in French. Too fast for Hermione to even hazard a guess at what she had said. The man nodded towards the back of the bar and Fleur headed in that direction, tugging Hermione by the hand.

“You know, Fleur, I’m really quite full after that lunch,” Hermione began before the words died on her lips.

Fleur had led her to a booth and stopped patiently.

Of course, that wasn’t what had stolen the words out of Hermione’s mouth. Sitting in the booth were Hermione’s parents. They were older and more tanned than they had been years before, but Hermione recognized them all the same.

“I… Fleur…” Hermione babbled.

“Hermione,” Jean Granger cried out, her eyes brimming with tears.

“Petal!” Hugo Granger exclaimed.

Hermione was in shock. They _recognized_ her.

“But how…?” Hermione gaped.

“It turns out powerful memory charms have the same kind of magical mechanism as some types of curses,” Fleur said quietly, “It just took a lot of research and failed attempts. Well, and tracking them down to this village. They had moved here from Australia years ago.”

“This is why Mrs Weasley was looking after Hugo?” Hermione asked, still in total disbelief. Fleur nodded.

“Hermione!”

Hermione’s parents had got up from the booth and threw their arms around her, engulfing her in a tight crushing hug.

Hermione realized her face was wet with tears as she sunk into their arms, beyond grateful.

“Mum, dad… I didn’t think I would ever have a chance to talk to you again,” Hermione sobbed.

“I can’t believe we forgot who you were!” Jean cried.

“You shouldn’t have done it, petal,” Hugo murmured fiercely.

“I had to… I had no other choice. The Death Eaters would have been able to find you so easily. Without magic, you two would have been easy targets for them to kill,” Hermione said, “I just couldn’t risk losing you… Even if it meant I couldn’t be in your lives anymore.”

“Hush,” Jean soothed, “We’re back now, thanks to your friend Fleur here.”

Fleur was still standing nearby, hands clasped politely.

As the Grangers pulled apart, Hermione wiped her eyes.

“Mum, dad,” Hermione said, “Fleur here is more than my friend. She’s my girlfriend. I love her.”

“Oh,” Jean exclaimed, only mildly surprised, “She’s lovely.”

“Great catch, Hermione,” Hugo smiled, patting Hermione on the shoulder.

“Wait… You aren’t shocked?” Hermione asked, frowning.

“That you’re interested in women?” Hugo asked with a chuckle, “Not at all. Your mother and I even used to have a running bet going on when you would realize it yourself.”

“ _What?!_ ” Hermione exclaimed.

“You were always a little too transfixed by the Disney princesses, dear,” Jean said with a chuckle.

Fleur giggled, despite having no idea what a Disney princess was.

“I can’t bloody believe this,” Hermione said in disbelief, running a hand through her curls, “What else have you been keeping from me?”

“There’s plenty of time for that later, petal,” Hugo responded, ushering them all to take a seat, “In the meantime, lets hear about what you’ve been up to over the past few years.”

They all sat down, Hermione finding that tears kept brimming in her eyes with happiness.

“Well, first of all, you’re grandparents now,” Hermione said, her voice wavering with emotion.

Jean and Hugo promptly burst into tears.

“R-Really?” Jean sobbed.

“Yes, really,” Hermione said, “I named him after dad. He has Fleur’s blonde hair and my curls.”

“As well as Hermione’s warm eyes,” Fleur added with a proud smile.

“A little grandbaby?!” Jean exclaimed, “Did you hear that, dear? Named after you! Little baby Hugo!”

“We can bring him to meet you tomorrow,” Fleur said warmly, “I’ve made sure that we have no plans tomorrow so that we can spend all day with you two and Hugo.”

“You’re bloody brilliant,” Hermione said to Fleur, “Have I ever told you that?”

Fleur cupped Hermione’s face, swiping away her tears.

“All I want is for you to be happy,” Fleur said sweetly.

Hermione and Fleur spent the whole afternoon with the Grangers, catching up and talking in the bar. Then Fleur led them all to a pretty local restaurant for dinner in the village. Hermione was surprised to see her parents were now fluent in French after their years of living in the village. She made a mental note to learn the language herself.

It was late by the time Fleur and her arrived back at the Delacour estate. Hermione was holding Fleur tightly by the hand, thoroughly grateful that the blonde was her mate.

Fleur halted her outside the door of the bedroom, insisting on peeking in first.

“Good, grandmere took care of it,” Fleur muttered, before opening the door to show Hermione.

The ceiling had been enchanted to show the starry night sky.

“Oui, inspired by Hogwarts and their Great Hall,” Fleur said with a small smile.

“Beautiful,” Hermione murmured, staring at the ceiling. Her eyes then drifted back to her gorgeous girlfriend, “But certainly not as beautiful as you.”

Fleur blushed lightly, averting her eyes out of awkwardness.

“I hope you had a good birthday today,” Fleur murmured.

“The very best,” Hermione beamed.

“Oh… Well… Good,” Fleur said, still blushing a little.

“I’m in awe of you, Fleur Delacour,” Hermione said earnestly, bringing the blush out in Fleur’s cheeks further.

“You flatter me,” Fleur said, stormy eyes meeting Hermione’s intense gaze.

“I mean it,” Hermione said, “And I mean it when I say this…”

“Say what?” Fleur asked, before narrowing her eyes slightly, “You aren’t trying to make me impatient again, are you?”

“Fleur Isabelle Delacour,” Hermione said, sinking to one knee in front of the blonde, “I don’t have a ring… And perhaps this is a little soon… But, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”

“Hermione!” Fleur gasped, her jaw falling open.

“Er, was it too soon?” Hermione asked, getting up quickly, “I just thought since we’re bonded already, it might not be…”

“Yes, Hermione, yes!” Fleur exclaimed, tears springing in her eyes, “Of course I will be your wife!”

Hermione, relieved, pulled Fleur into a deep kiss and tight embrace.

It had been spur of the moment—so unlike Hermione—but everything about it felt right. This was who she was meant to be with. Everything about Hermione’s birthday had just served to confirm that. Fleur Delacour was the person she was meant to spend the rest of her life with, and Hermione just couldn’t wait to make it official.

* * *

**Epilogue: approx. 3 years later.**

Hermione apparated into the garden of their little cottage, running a hand through her curls. She was heading up the latest Magical Creatures regime, having already become a senior in the office.

It was her work on the review and repeals of bigoted laws three years ago that had really catapulted her career. But now she was looking forward to pushing through some new ideas. She was creating a policy meaning that any decisions involving Magical Creatures had to be approved by the appropriate Magical Creature groups affected.

“Mum!” little Hugo called out, dashing out the back door towards Hermione.

He was a troublesome child at times. He seemed to have inherited his Maman’s infamous poker face, making it incredibly difficult for Hermione to catch him out when he had misbehaved. His curls were unruly, still platinum blonde.

He was wearing grey little sweatpants and a scarlet sweatshirt with a lion on it.

“Did you have a good time with Grandma and Grandpa?” Hermione asked with a smile. Hermione’s parents had moved back to Britain two years ago, settling in a Muggle village nearby. They helped out a lot with childcare. When Hugo wasn’t being watched by them, he was with Luna, who stayed at home to look after the one-year old she had with Harry.

Harry and Luna had been surprised by the pregnancy of little Lucy, but had been overjoyed all the same. Hermione had welcomed the addition of another ‘happy accident’ amongst their friend group. It gave them a couple to moan to about the pitfalls of child rearing, as well as excitedly talk to about different milestones.

“They gave me sweets,” Hugo grinned, as Hermione hoisted him up and rested him on her hip.

“I hope not too many,” Hermione smiled, “You don’t want to ruin your appetite for dinner.”

Amelie, Ginny and Ron were coming around for dinner at Fleur and Hermione’s little cottage. Luna and Harry still had their hands full with Lucy, who was going through a difficult phase.

Amelie and Ginny were always available. They had yet to settle down properly, still changing addresses every six months and taking up a new hobby every three months. Hermione, for one, thought it was nice that the fiery and untamable Ginny had found her match with Amelie. They were two free spirits living life to the fullest together.

Ron was still single, much to Hermione’s confusion. He was still very much charmed by Marie, even all these years later. Yet he seemed to be taking a very slow and strategic path to asking her out. It was the first time Hermione had seen Ron take something entirely seriously in the history of her friendship with him.

Hermione carried Hugo into the cottage, smiling at the delicious aroma coming from the kitchen.

“Whatever it is smells amazing, love,” Hermione said to Fleur, coming to kiss her softly on the lips.

“Merci, mon amour,” Fleur purred, lighting up.

“I helped Maman!” Hugo informed Hermione proudly. Hermione giggled a little. Hugo was quickly developing the ego of his Maman, and it couldn’t be more adorable.

“He did,” Fleur replied, smiling at their son, “Maybe you and Mum can help Maman out now?”

“Yeah!” Hugo trumpeted eagerly. Hermione quirked an eyebrow at Fleur.

“I need you to watch this food for a moment,” Fleur explained, smiling easily, “I will be back in a moment.”

She dropped a kiss to Hugo’s forehead and pecked Hermione on the lips before sweeping out of the room elegantly.

“ _I wanna stir, Mum, can I?_ ” Hugo asked in French. Hermione had mastered the language around the time Hugo had started talking. They had moved easily into becoming a bilingual household.

“Oui,” Hermione replied, regretting her response as Hugo reached over and wrenched the wooden spoon in the pot, splattering red pasta sauce everywhere. No matter. Hermione could clean it later.

“Are Uncle Harry and Aunt Luna coming?” Hugo asked.

“Not tonight, darling,” Hermione responded, “But your Aunt Amelie and Ginny are coming… As well as Uncle Ron.”

“Uncle Ron!” Hugo exclaimed excitedly, “Can I go pick toys to show him?”

“Sure,” Hermione replied, relieved that at least he had lost interest in splattering pasta sauce everywhere. She released Hugo and set him on the ground, watching with amusement as he scampered off eagerly to his toy box in the corner of the living room. Her heart was so full.

“Hermione,” Fleur called out. Her voice sounded odd.

Hermione whirled around to see Fleur standing in the doorway, pale. She immediately felt a pang of panic.

“Is something wrong?” Hermione asked, stepping forward.

“Do you remember last month at Bill’s birthday?” Fleur asked Hermione, her voice a little unsteady.

Hermione nodded.

“How could I forget?” Hermione responded.

Hermione’s parents had taken Hugo for a sleepover, allowing Fleur and Hermione to act up with their raucous twenty-something-year-old friends for the night. Bill had thrown a wild soiree, positively drowning his guests in wine. Hermione and Fleur had let their inhibitions go for a chance, the restrained pair uncharacteristically indulging in the festivities with vigor. Hermione had suffered from her third-only hangover after that evening.

“And you remember how we got a little carried away that night?” Fleur reminded, quirking an eyebrow, “In the bathroom?”

A broad smile crept across Hermione’s face unbidden. Later in the night, Fleur had yanked Hermione unceremoniously into the bathroom, locking the door. They had ended up kissing passionately, which had quickly escalated to making love passionately. They hadn’t even cared when they finally left the bathroom to find a long line of party-goers impatiently waiting to use the bathroom.

“Yeah… I remember that,” Hermione said with a grin. Her grin froze as she noticed Fleur was looking very serious, “What is it?”

“I’m pregnant,” Fleur said, her voice a little faint, “Hugo is going to have a little sibling.”

“Oh! Fleur!” Hermione exclaimed, throwing her arms around Fleur, “This is amazing! Aren’t you excited?”

“It’s just it is unplanned,” Fleur said, melting into Hermione’s embrace, “I worry you might find it too much with all that is happening with your job. They’ve been wanting you to go on more business trips.”

“Sod the business trips,” Hermione said, kissing Fleur, “Our family is growing!”

She pulled back, locking eyes with Fleur.

“You really don’t mind?” Fleur asked, tears brimming in her eyes and smiling widely.

“Mind? I’m elated!” Hermione gasped, tears dropping from her own eyes, “Yeah, it isn’t planned—but we always meant to get around to extending our family. Now is as good a time as any!”

“Mon amour,” Fleur replied, pulling Hermione in for a kiss.


End file.
